


Landslide

by DarkCellar



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), kylux - Fandom
Genre: Boys Kissing, Captain Phasma, Crushes, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gay, General Hux - Freeform, Kissing, Kylo Ren - Freeform, Kylo Ren and General Hux - Freeform, Kylux - Freeform, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Out of Character, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Romantic Gestures, Same Sex Relationship, Sci-Fi, Secret Crush, Star Wars - Freeform, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015) - Freeform, The First Order, Unresolved Romantic Tension, mutual crush, romantic, supreme leader snoke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-03 20:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10975149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCellar/pseuds/DarkCellar
Summary: Starkiller has been destroyed, and with it, the enthusiasm and morale of the remaining members of Snoke's Order.General Hux, Commander Ren and company are on their way to join Snoke at the new base, and begun the process of rebuilding what was lost in the aftermath of the Starkiller destruction.Ren has been licking his wounds and his bruised pride over losing to an untrained girl, and has had a good deal of time during this journey to think over his life, and where his priorities need to lie in the future.One thing he's determined to do, as hard as it is for him, is to thank General Hux for, in effect, saving his life and rescuing him from the imploding planet. When he's well enough to move around in his own he corners Hux in his office to do just that--but something is different with the General. Something very vulnerable is to be seen in him, something very--human; and Ren isn't sure how to react to the change in attitude.





	1. Chapter 1

"Just let me say this, alright?"

Hux looked at him and nodded slowly, folding his hands together on top of his desk.

Ren had come to his office at the end of the day, when he was sure to find him alone. He wasn't used to being friendly, or even cordial, with the man in question, and he could not have attempted this in front of an audience.

Taking another deep breath, Ren's next words all came out in a rush.

"I know you don't care for me, and I know that it would have been easy to just let me die, to tell Snoke that you didn't find me in time. I just--I'm thankful that you didn't. You saved my life, and no matter what idiotic thing you say or do from this point forward, I'll always be grateful  
to you, and indebted to you."

He held out his hand awkwardly, and after a moment Hux took it, pumping his hand swiftly before letting go.

"Just following orders, you understand," he said gruffly; but he couldn't hide the small smile that was crawling over his face.

Ren nodded, then shoved his helmet back over his face. He felt better with his shield up, less exposed, and more confident when talking to others.

"Are you feeling okay?", he asked Hux in his distorted voice, peering at him closely through the visor of the helmet.

"I feel fine. Why?"

"You don't--", Ren began, then stopped. What he had been going to say was that Hux didn't feel so good, but he knew Hux wouldn't understand what he meant by that. As a force user, Ren was always reaching out and reading the thoughts and feelings of others, most of the time without even being aware that he was doing so. It was something that came as naturally to him as breathing; and what he was picking up from the General were very strong feelings of pain, of sickness.

Although he looked fine on the outside, Ren changed his earlier intended statement to say "You don't look so well," even though that wasn't what he meant at all.

"I'm fine," Hux insisted again, turning back to the load of papers on his desk. Now if there's nothing else I have several things to attend to, here."

Ren nodded, and walked out of the room without another word.

The next night, he found that he couldn't sleep, and he dressed himself, intending to walk along the halls until he felt tired enough for bed.

They were still en-route to the new base, and the constant travel was making everyone feel uneasy. Because of security reasons, only Hux and Ren knew where their final destination lay; and even then, Ren himself had only the faintest picture in his head of the system that Snoke had revealed to the two of them via hologram.

When Ren had seen him earlier, Hux still had those strong negative feelings coming off of him, and it left Ren feeling unsettled. Which was probably part of the reason he was having such trouble getting to sleep, now.

Ren walked restlessly around the empty halls until he found himself standing outside the door of General Hux's office. He noticed the light was on, and, curious as to why he would be working so late, he tapped lightly on the door.

When there was no answer, he pressed the button to the gliding doors and entered, looking around until he spotted Hux, sitting in a dark corner, his knees drawn up to his chin.

Ren tilted his head, confused. He had never seen Hux in such a position before. He looked--normal. And vulnerable.

Hux didn't look up as he came closer, and Ren wondered if he had even heard him enter the room at all.

When he got right up next to him, the strong, sour smell of whisky hit him full in the face, making him crinkle his nose in disgust. 

Alcohol of any kind always put him in mind of the countless cantinas he had been forced to sit in with his father and Chewbacca, on the occasions he went on trips with Han as a boy. His father was a shrewd clever man, and a genius at cards and gambling. But when he had been drinking, he often lost control of his senses, getting himself into messes that Kylo and Chewie often had to get him out of, and quickly. These trips usually ended up with them having to run for the ship while being shot at.

Kylo rubbed the jagged bottom part of his ear, indignantly, as these memories returned to him. He once got the very tip of this earlobe shot off as consequence for stopping to pick up his father's vest that had dropped to the floor as Chewie hoisted him and rushed him to the ship.

That was the very last time he tried to help his dad with anything.

It was also the last time, for a LONG time, after talking to his mother, that Han was allowed to take his son along with him on his trading jaunts across the galaxy.

He pushed this impromptu memory from his head as he focused on the man in front of him. Squinting, he could now make out the nearly empty glass bottle that sat beside Hux's feet.

Not sure what to make of the situation, he cleared his throat and said, "General?"

Hux looked up at him, or rather tried to, as it took quite a lot of effort to focus solidly on Ren's face.

"What are you doing here?", he growled, as he put one hand to his aching head. "Shouldn't you be on the bridge somewhere?"

Ren couldn't help but smile, as he knelt beside him. "On the bridge? It's barely 2 in the morning!"

Hux looked at him in disbelief, then at the time piece that sat over on his desk.

"Huh. So it is. Must have lost track of time," he slurred, standing up abruptly. He waved off Ren's offered arm and walked himself to his desk, plopping down in his chair. He groaned, then laid his head down on top of a pile of papers, staring blankly at the wall.

Ren was both amused and concerned. Amused, because he had never known the General to get intoxicated before, and the way he was acting right now could provide blackmail material for Ren for years to come.

Concerned because, again, he had never known the General to get intoxicated, before.

It seemed that something was wrong, and Ren wanted to ask what it was, but didn't know how to do so without offending Hux.

Before he could open his mouth, Hux was speaking in his direction, mumbling,

"Do you remember our talk last night?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember you saying that you're 'indebted' to me?"

"Yes."

"So that would mean you owe me a favor, maybe?"

"Yes--?", Ren said, confused. "What did you have in mind?"

"Do you have your lightsaber on you?"

"Of course."

Hux stood up unsteadily from behind his desk, and came and knelt beside where Ren was standing, making Ren flinch back a little in apprehension.

"Kill me."

"W-what?!"

"Kill me. Cut off my head. Stab me through the heart. Whatever you want, only make it quick."

Ren looked at him closely, and reached out with the force to read his mind, to gauge whether he was joking.

He wasn't.

"Hux--", Ren began, struggling to find the right words to say. This was a complete role-reversal; usually it was Hux (and others) having to talk Ren down from his dangerous moods.

"You're tired," he continued, speaking in a calmer voice than was normal for him. "We both are. These past few days have been full of stress and strain, and we're under a lot of pressure."

He stood up, taking Hux by the arm and attempting to pull him to his feet.

"Come on; I'll walk you back to your quarters. It's very late, and I want you to get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning, if you want, once you feel better, okay?"

Hux jerked his arm away from Ren and got hastily to his own feet, his eyes blazing at Ren.

"Don't you dare sit there and patronize me! You have NO IDEA the stress I feel right now! I've just lost a third of my men in the Starkiller explosion, not to mention Starkiller itself! That was like my child, Ren! I fed it and nurtured it and watched it grow--and now it's gone. Gone!"

Ren watched, fascinated, as Hux continued further into this unexpected meltdown. Hux dug his hands into his hair, and Ren was shocked to see the tears that were slowly gliding down his cheeks.

"I've failed, Ren. I've failed at the one thing Snoke entrusted me to do: keep his men and his weapon safe. And now he's telling me that I need to have plans ready for when we meet him in a few days, about how to replenish our lost personnel and how we'll go about designing a new weapon. I have literally zero ideas in my head about anything! And you want me to go rest?!"

"Yes. I do. Trust me, once--"

"Trust you? TRUST YOU?!", Hux interrupted him, his eyes bulging. "You mean the same way I 'trusted' you to tell me that the girl had escaped, and was running loose on the ship? The way I 'trusted' you to tell me your FATHER had managed to break into the ship and wire it with explosives? Is that the kind of trust you're talking about?"

Ren closed his eyes, fighting against the anger he could feel welling up inside of him. There was no way he could afford to lose his temper now, AND keep Hux under control.

"You're right, Hux," he said, gritting his teeth against the awful tasting admission. "I severely misjudged those situations, and I'm so--"

"Oh, for Maker's sake, don't tell me you're sorry, Ren," Hux said bitterly. "Sorry doesn't fix the situation, does it? There's only me thing that can make this right; I've told you what I want. Are you going to accommodate me or not?"

"No."

"Very well, then. If you won't help me, I'm going to go requisition a blaster and put an end to this myself."

He tried to March past Ren, who jumped up and blocked the door, preventing him from leaving.

"Get out of my way!"

"No."

Hux glowered at him, then threw a punch at Ren's side without warning. Ren ducked away from it, and Hux used the opportunity to slide past him and reach the door.

Ren used the Force to immediately freeze Hux in place, but it wasn't easy. Hux was mentally stronger than the average person he used his abilities on, and holding on to him mentally was actually quite painful.

He gave up after a moment and released his hold on him, opting instead to throw his arms around him in a tackle and drive him to his knees.

"LET ME GO!", Hux roared, struggling as hard as he could against the strong arms that were circled around him like iron.

Ren ignored him, tightening his grip and burying his face in Hux's neck. He could feel how strong his pain was, how agonizing. And there wasn't a single thing that he could do to ease that pain.

For the first time in a long time, possibly ever, Ren felt powerless. Helpless. 

Useless.

Hux managed to twist out of one of Ren's arms, and he turned, throwing a punch squarely at Ren's jaw.

His blow was both hard and accurate, splitting the skin of Ren's lip wide open and staining his chin and the front of his tunic with blood.

Ren blinked hard several times and shook it off, his self-healing already activating itself as his wound closed itself up, and the blood retreated back to where it came from.

What was it his mother used to do for him, when he was upset?

An image popped into his mind, of Leia holding him in his bed after one of his nightmares, rocking him back and forth, humming.

The difference between the situations was staggering; but maybe the comfort would work the same way.

So Ren loosened his vice grip into a more nurturing grasp, and began to slowly rock the redhead back and forth, humming a little snatch of the tune that had occurred to him during his flashback to his youth.

Slowly, Hux stopped fighting him, and the tense set of his upper body relaxed. He leaned fully into Ren with a long, shuddery sigh. Ren timidly lifted his hand and wound it gently through Hux's short copper locks.

They sat there for what seemed like forever, with Ren holding Hux and humming, and Hux allowing himself to be cradled like a child.

Eventually he pulled himself together and stood up; and Ren could see it, in his eyes. The slow but sure resurgence of determination, of drive, that General Hux was known for.

He crossed the room to his desk and opened a handful of drawers, pulling out papers, maps, and his datapad.

"I need to call a meeting with my Leiutenents first thing tomorrow to discuss the recruitment campaign we need to launch, and then I need to sketch out ideas for a new weapon, and then--"

Hux trailed off, busily typing notes into his datapad and writing things down on the papers. He pushed the Comm button on his desk, ordering the kitchen droid to bring him a strong pot of Caffe.

Ren watched him for a moment, and, deciding he was really over his fit, prepared to leave.

He began to head towards the door when Hux said "Wait," softly behind him, making Ren pause and turn around to look at him.

"Ren. If you ever tell anybody about this, ever, for any reason . . . I'll kill you. I'll strangle you with my bare hands. Is that understood?"

The words were harsh, but his face was not. His mouth was stern but his eyes were smiling, and he was looking at Ren with an expression that was almost . . . friendly.

Almost.

Because of this, instead of the thousand taunts and insults that suggested themselves to Ren in retort to Hux's order, he merely caught his eye and smiled, saying simply,

"Understood."

He turned to go, picking up his mask from where it still sat in the floor. He slid it into place, hearing the familiar hiss of the airlock mechanism.

He straightened out his wrinkled robes and headed for the door, the events of the day finally weighing in on him. 

Behind him, Hux was still talking and planning aloud; but he stopped before Ren got to the door.

"Kylo?"

Ren turned back around and looked at him.

"I . . . um, thank you."

Ren nodded, then turned and continued out of Hux's office and to his own quarters.

It wasn't until he reached his room that the thought occurred to him: that was the first time, in the long ten plus years they had known each other, that Hux had called him by his first name.

It sounded nice.


	2. Chapter 2

He grasped on to the rail, closing his eyes and breathing in the sweet, sharp, dewy air of the early morning.

The sun was beginning to rise, and Ren had awoken early enough to wander outside and watch it, finding an empty observation deck high above the training grounds below.

They had finally made it to the new base, and Hux had everything running smoothly again, almost like normal. Everyone fell into the strict routines and schedules that he had marked out for them, and things were almost back to regulation order once more.

Snoke had met them there briefly, giving a stirring speech to his remaining Order about perseverance, and tenacity, and what they needed to do to move forward and rebuild their empire, stronger than before.

He was away now, having left with his guards and a contingent of stormtrooper said and personnel to set about gathering more recruits and materials for the new base and the proposed new weapon. 

General Hux and Commander Ren looked after the new bas while Snoke was gone, implementing the new training routines, overseeing combat procedures, and any number of activities that made up the daily life in the First Order.

One new policy that Hux had implemented (that Ren was grateful for) were new start times to the daily routines; meaning that Ren had an extra few hours to sleep every morning before taking on the tedious tasks of the day.

Not that his body was letting him take advantage of this.

He often found himself plagued with terrible nightmares regarding the recent events in his life, and was unable to return to sleep once a nightmare had struck. This had never been the case for him before, this inability to just shake things off, and it worried him, somewhat.

Such was the case today, when a particularly horrid dream had taken over his mind, leaving him twisting and turning and eventually awaking with a gasp, bathed in sweat and heart pounding a mile a minute, in his still dark room.

And so he had dressed himself and stumbled outside, just in time to watch the golden orb push it's way through the low clouds in the east.

In a way, the rising sun was a relief. 

It cast out all the failures and imperfections of the previous day, making way for a new start, a possibility to correct past mistakes and tackle challenges with a renewed energy, a vigor of spirit.

Yet it was also dreadful.

It's easier to hide, at night. Both physically and emotionally. All that he had done, both good and bad, could be hidden away and justified in the kind, unassuming shadows of twilight. All of his secrets, his worries and fears, seemed to stampede to the forefront of his mind in the daylight hours, making it nearly impossible to keep a peaceable grip on his already-fragile conscience.

As usual, a rush of images and faces came crowding into his head the moment he believed he had found a small measure of peace.

Faces accompanied by a never-ending babble of voices.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to drown out the phantom apparitions in his mind with his own voice; but realized, with a sense of horror, that he couldn't.

He couldn't because--he was no longer sure of what his own voice sounded like.

He had been living with the influence of outside presences in his mind since he was a child, and these ghostly mind-dwellers had been shaping his thoughts, actions, opinions, and ultimately, his destiny, for as long as he could remember.

Snoke.  
Uncle Luke.  
His mother.  
His father.  
Darth Vader.  
Chewbacca.  
The students at the Jedi academy.  
His fellow knights.

All these and more, all these images and voices and opinions grabbing a hold of him and shaking him to and fro in their jaws.

All of their hopes, dreams, expectations that they unknowingly foisted off on to his back--would he ever be able to straighten up from underneath the impossible weight?

Would it ever stop?

Would he ever have any kind of peace, of completeness, in his waking hours?

While he could never block the voices entirely, he was able to push them aside temporarily, into a kind of soft buzzing held to the background of his mind.

He did this now, with the ease of something long-practiced, and opened his eyes, focusing on the noises in the physical world.

Or rather, the lack of them.

With the exception of the birds chirping in the distance and the low, ever-present humming of the building in the background, everything was silent.

TOO silent.

He could hear it when someone walked up behind him, the vibrations of the steps penetrating the eerie quite, and, without turning around, he could sense who the person was.

Hux.

And he could hear the pause in his step, as well. He didn't have to use his mind reading abilities to know that the pause had been borne out of a mild fear; that Hux felt that to approach him, when he was appearing to be relaxing alone, would be rude and off-putting.

Ren cleared his throat, speaking in a low voice and acknowledging Hux's presence with a "Good morning."

Hux returned his greeting, and continued out unto the observation deck until he was standing right beside Ren.

Ever since the day when Ren had held Hux, when he had stepped outside of his comfort zone to calm the distraught General, things had been a bit odd between them.

Whereas before Hux was openly critical of Ren and nearly everything he did or said, his attitude had shifted towards one of quiet acceptance, of openness. He was less apt to jump down his throat when he voiced his opinion at meetings, he rolled his eyes less often, was less defensive regarding criticisms, and a slew of other changes that he worked hard at putting into action.

And Ren didn't quite know what to make of that.

On one hand, it was rather pleasant, being taken seriously for a change. Hux had never made it a secret that he thought of Ren as little more than a spoiled man-child, an overgrown "pet" of Supreme Leader Snoke whose opinions he refused to defer to unless mandated by Snoke himself. 

The obvious change in attitude, while it made Ren suspicious and uneasy, was still a nice thing to be subjected to.

But still, underneath all of that, there was something that bothered Ren even more. Scared him, in fact.

The day he had held Hux, he had felt something in the redhead break loose from a vault he had buried deep in his conscience, something so hidden and pushed down that he himself was unaware of it.

It was loneliness.

It was a desire to have people around him that weren't just minions, weren't just subordinates, but actual--friends.

The thought had risen to the top of Hux's mind, that Ren might fit into that longed-for role for him: a friend.

And Ren wasn't quite sure how to take that.

He had never been one for making or keeping friends, something that extended all the way back to his childhood. He had made one true, real, solid friend since joining Snoke and the First Order over a decade ago; and he felt that this single friend was all he needed.

Luckily for Ren, Hux had no idea how to go about cultivating casual relationships with others, any more than Ren did. He had no idea how to ask Ren if, say, he wanted to have a cup of Caffe with him, or join him on one of his off days in the hikes he took into the countryside.

So for the most part he just contented himself with showing a slightly more companionable demeanor towards the dark knight, and hoped that would be enough to plant the seeds, or set the stage, for something more.

But Ren wasn't ready to respond to that anytime soon.

Now the two stood silently, shoulder to shoulder, their eyes taking in the visual feast of the dawn and their ears eating up the quiet, before Hux turned slightly towards him.

"I can't remember the last time I actually watched the sun come up, on any planet.", he said softly, sighing a little without being aware of it. "Normally I'm too busy in the mornings to just stop, and look."

Ren nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "I know what you mean. It's--nice."

He glanced sideways at Hux, and was surprised at the effect that the brilliant early morning sunlight was having with the General.

Hux's normally pale hair was lit up in a magnificent configuration of red-gold, practically glowing in the rays of the sun. His brilliant blue eyes, although directly facing the light, did not look away or squint from its intensity.

"Have I got something in my hair?", Hux asked him, drawing him from his thoughts. He was looking at Ren with an unidentifiable expression on his face, something that was part amusement, part nervousness.

"No. Why?"

"You're staring," Hux replied, still giving him that odd look.

Ren hurriedly averted his gaze, coughing self-consciously into his fist. He was embarrassed; he hadn't realized that he had been staring.

A not quite uncomfortable silence passed between them, before Ren was asking, gruffly,

"What are you doing awake so early, anyway? With the change in routine I'd have imagined you'd take advantage of the opportunity to get in a little extra sleep."

Hux chuckled and shook his head.

"I meant to, but I woke up at the same time I always do, and once I was awake, I decided I may as well stay up."

He turned fully towards Ren now, a sheepish smile on his face.

"I'm a creature of habit, I suppose. I've been like this since I was a boy; once I'm awake, returning to sleep is an impossibility."

Ren chuckled a little as well.

"I'm just the opposite. I could sleep through the dead rising from hell. Always could. It takes me quite a while to fully wake up and get moving. Early mornings are the worst for me."

Hux raised an eyebrow at that, tilting his head slightly.

"If that's the case--why are you up right now? You're not due on the bridge for at least another two hours."

"The same thing you said, I suppose: creature of habit. Snoke always makes me get up early to meditate with him, so now I always wake up around this time, even when he's away, like he is now."

Hux was quiet for a bit, before asking him,

"Does that actually work? Or is it something that works only for force-users?"

"What? Meditation?"

"Yes."

Ren shrugged slightly, looking at him.

"I believe it works for anyone. It's not so much about the Force as it is about clearing your mind, focusing your energies and ambitions on the tasks that lay ahead of you for the day."

"You'll have to show me how, sometime. I could use a head-clearing. Sometimes--"

He trailed off, frowning, and Ren picked up the rest of the thought that was emerging from his brain.

Sometimes, the expectations of Snoke, and his men, and the responsibilities of running this base--sometimes it all felt like too much for him.

He had been raised to do this; his father, a General himself in the time of Ren's grandfather, had run a strict household where all things and people fell into the neatly structured, pre-planned patterns that Hux Sr. had decided for them.

Hux the second was no exception.

Excellent was not only demanded of him, but expected. Expected in the same way that one would expect to draw breath into the lungs, or blink ones eyes.

Hux had been born into this role, and his fierce determination combined with his magnanimous charisma had created a greater leader than even his father could have predicted.

But despite all this, underneath the mind and the demeanor and the title, there was a man who was just plain tired.

Tired of so many things that it would have been impossible to name them all.

He was able to use his upbringing to keep his discontent pushed down and hidden away in the furthest depths of his soul, in a place where his father wouldn't see it, or Snoke . . . or even Hux himself.

Of course, as with all things in life, no matter how hard one tries to contain it, the truth comes out.

Like the meltdown he had had just last week, when the aftermath of Starkiller had hit him before he could gather up his arsenal of mental and emotional defenses.

And right now.

It was coming out right now, slowly, subtly, so subtle that it barely scratched the surface of his own consciousness--but Ren picked up on it nonetheless.

For a brief moment, standing there and thinking these things, Ren felt more in-tune with Hux than he had ever felt with anybody, in his entire life. It was like a meeting of kindred spirits that had been fumbling around in the dark, until the Maker mercifully opened the door and let the light spill down on both of them.

That feeling was there for a moment, and gone in an instant.

The moment of open vulnerability had apparently passed for Hux, too. Ren looked over and saw that he had pulled his datapad out of his coat pocket, and was silently going over his day's schedule.

Ren also realized that they were no longer entirely alone. Several officers were strolling the corridor inside, and two were making their way towards them, no doubt coming to speak with Hux about their assignments for the day.

"I'm going to get going, General. There's some things I need to do before the day begins."

Hux looked up at him, and for a second it seemed like he was going to say something more. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

"I'll see you on the bridge in a few hours," Hux murmured towards him, then returned to busily typing into his pad.

Ren nodded, then turned and walked swiftly away, glancing over his shoulder one final time at the redhead behind him.

-.-.-.-.-

"Get your boots off of my table, please."

"Why?"

"Because they're dirty, for one. Also unsanitary. Now move them."

Ren sighed and slowly brought his feet back down to the floor, tucking them underneath the little table and resting his hands on his knees.

"Better?"

"Much."

He was sitting in the quarters of Gwendolyn, better known as Gwen, known better still as Captain Phasma.

He had developed a slow but steady friendship with this woman over the past few years, although their friendship was something that no one else in the First Order was aware of the existence of, except for possibly Snoke; but he didn't seem to care about it one way or the other.

Gwen was beautiful, smart, funny, and strong. She was the perfect calm balance to Ren's often volatile personality, and he found great comfort in talking to her, and going to visit her whenever he could.

But they had to be careful, about arousing the suspicion of anyone who might see him slip into her quarters, or her into his.

Rumors abounded regarding the possible romantic entanglements of many of the officers, and even some storm troopers, in the First Order. Neither Ren nor Phasma wanted those type of innuendoes to be made about the two of them, both for the sake of reputation and for professionalism's sake.

There wasn't a single trace of romantic feelings between the two; but someone on the outside wouldn't know that. If anyone knew how close they were, talk would start, and the repercussions would be awful for either of them.

In truth, their friendship was somewhat akin to that of a sibling dynamic, rather than purely friendly. Although Ren was older than Phasma by two years, she more or less thought of him as her little brother, and treated him as such. 

Maybe it was the height, that made this an easy scenario for Ren to accept.

She was the only person on the base, other than Snoke, that not only matched his height, but overshot it by almost 3 inches. It was unbelievably refreshing, being able to look a person in the eyes as he talked to them.

More than anything else, the thing that Ren enjoyed immensely about Phasma was her complete and total honesty.

In her presence, he never felt like he had to second guess her motives, or read hidden meanings behind her words. She was the most straight forward individual he had ever come across in his life, and she was one of the few people in his life that would tell it to him the way she saw it, without fear of his infamous temper.

Also, she was one of the few rare souls who didn't want anything from him; nothing except himself, and his friendship, which he gladly gave her in return for her own.

Of course, as with all good things, sometimes her honesty got to be a little too much.

Like today.

"You look awful, Ren," she was saying to him, as she bustled about her small kitchen, making them some food. "You look like you haven't slept in days. Like--like bantha poodoo."

Ren scowled and propped his cheek up on his fist.

"You're really charming, you know that? Thanks for your concern but I'm fine; I think I'm getting sick, that's all."

"You might be catching that strain of cold that's been taking down a lot of my men this week. I hear it's spreading like wildfire all over the base."

Ren sighed, lowering his head until it was resting on his folded arms on the table.

"That's great," he muttered into his forearm. "Perfect. Just what I needed."

Phasma smiled as she stirred the pot on the stove.

"Oh, don't be such a baby, Ren. It lasts a few days, tops. Then you can go back to being the merry ray of sunshine we all know and love."

Ren chuckled, but made no reply.

Phasma stirred the pot once more, then nodded to herself, satisfied that it was done. She dished up two bowls full and carried them carefully to the table, setting one in front of Ren.

He lifted his head to look at it, watching the way the liquid steamed up towards the ceiling.

"It's soup," she said, answering his unspoken question as she handed him a spoon. "Eat. You'll feel better."

He ate obediently, silently thankful that, amongst other things, Phasma was a good cook. Her tasty meals provided a much needed break to the bland and often unidentifiable food that was served out in the mess hall.

As they ate, Phasma told him an amusing anecdote about a squad she had been overseeing the previous week.

"These new recruits-sometimes I don't know where we find these people, Ren. They're all dedicated enough to the First Order, but sometimes I think that's a bad thing. Their--I don't know what you'd call it, their over-eagerness, their drive to prove that they can make it in this outfit; it makes them erratic. Clumsy. We have more men down on a daily basis due to self-inflicted wounds, ankle injuries, inaccurate shooting, things like that."

Ren listened attentively, busily spooning soup into his mouth. When he was finished he held out the empty bowl to Phasma with a sly grin on his face.

She took it with a sigh, rising to fill it with more soup.

"Have you been listening to anything I said?", she asked indignantly, as she brought his second bowl over to him.

"Of course. You just told me I should sneak up on one of your squads with my lightsaber and cut them all down. Heard you clear as a bell."

Phasma laughed, taking her own bowl and dropping it in the sink. She began to wash it, along with a few pans; her back to Ren. 

"Not what I said, but I guess that's close enough."

Ren quickly finished his second helping, and brought the empty bowl over to Phasma. He crept up quietly behind her, making no sound, and reached out and goosed her on the sides of her hips.

She flinched, and whirled around to face him, the soapy dish water flying from her fingertips and pattering against his face.

She playfully smacked his shoulder as she took the bowl from him, dropping it into the sink while muttering "jerk" under her breath.

He smiled at the compliment, and wrapped his arms quickly around her waist, giving her a warm kiss on the cheek.

"'Jerk' is my middle name, sweetheart."

She blushed, and continued to wash dishes.

He went to sit on her couch, leaning back against the soft cushions and closing his eyes. He knew he should probably get going, but he couldn't seem to force his body to move. Besides the pleasant full feeling, a logy apathy began to steal over him, and he yawned loudly.

Phasma finished with the dishes and dried her hands before coming to sit beside him. She looked at his sleepy face with a soft smile.

"You don't get enough sleep," she said, patting his shoulder. "And you don't eat right. You do so much physical activity during the day, and in your off time, you don't take care of yourself. Do you know what you need?"

He closed his eyes and leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder. "A blaster shot to the brain?", he mumbled.

"No. Idiot. I was going to say, you need to be married. You need a wife or something."

His eyes opened wide and he sat up, looking at her incredulously. 

"Married?", he spit the word out like a curse. "Are you crazy?"

"Men are like children; they need someone to take care of them at all stages of their life. You need someone to make sure you're not staying up so late, who can make you decent meals so you're not filling your body with rubbish all the time. That sort of thing."

"Isn't that what I have YOU for?"

She smiled, but it was a sad smile.

"You have me as your friend, yes. And I'm willing to cook for you when I can, and nag at you about the other stuff. But I want you to have something more. I want you to have the romantic nonsense too. I can't give you THAT part, you know."

Ren was silent for awhile, thinking over her words. 

"I don't need that," he replied after a few minutes, in a slightly hardened voice. "I don't ne--"

A knock on the door interrupted him, and Phasma got up to answer it, smoothing back her hair as she did so.

The door slid open to reveal General Hux, his greatcoat slung over his shoulder, his arms weighed down with a slew of papers.

"Sorry to bother you, Captain. I know you're off duty but I just received this list of training procedure changes from Snoke, and I was wondering if you had time to go over the--"

He stopped, as he looked up and his eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of Ren sitting on Phasma's couch. 

"Good evening, Ren; I didn't expect to see you here."

Phasma was mortified. It would have been bad enough for someone of her ranking to be discovered by a stormtrooper with what appeared to be a gentleman caller in her quarters after hours. To be "caught" like this by the General himself, was embarrassing.

Ren glanced at Phasma, who had the slightest blush creeping over her face.

"I wasn't feeling well. Captain Phasma was kind enough to offer me some soup."

He stood abruptly, grabbing his helmet from where he had stowed it underneath the table. 

"I'm feeling much better; I should probably be going."

He walked towards the door, and, despite the nerves he could feel ebbing out of Phasma, he leaned over and gave her a slow, warm kiss on the cheek, right in front of Hux.

"I'll leave you two to discuss business. Goodnight."

He turned and walked out of Phasma's quarters and down the hallway, barely able to contain the smile that crept over his face as the General's shocked thoughts regarding his behavior hit him in a wave.

Then Phasma's mind reached him, speaking in a quiet, indignant tone: 

I'm going to get you for that, Kylo Ren. Just wait.

He grinned as he reached his quarters, stepping inside and locking the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Phasma opened her door just in time to catch Ren as he pitched forward into her arms, moaning in pain.

For anyone else, this would be a serious cause for alarm, to see Ren so hurt, so indisposed.

But Phasma was used to it.

Ren had just gotten back from one of his training sessions with Snoke. The mental strain that Snoke subjected his apprentice to, pushing at the very boundary of Ren's mental and emotional limits, left his entire being exhausted.

He was able to leave Snoke okay, and make it down the hallways with relative ease; but eventually that pain and strain caught up with him, rendering his entire body helpless.

When he felt he wasn't able to make it all the way to his quarters without collapsing, he would stop at Phasma's.

And she was used to this, knowing that eventually his anguish would pass and he'd be back to normal. He just needed a place to lay down, (and he told her in the beginning that preferred the floor to the bed, so that she wouldn't feel obligated to try and carry him into her bedroom. In truth it wouldn't matter one way or the other where he was laying, because all he could feel was pain, anyway), and he needed quiet.

So she laid him out on her floor and spoke softly to him, placing a pillow under his neck and a kiss on his forehead.

She sat down and picked up a book, preparing to wait it out with him, when a knock came at her door.

She stepped over Ren and answered it, a bit surprised to see the General there.

Then she remembered that she had told him to come by, to pick up a report she had done detailing a mission she had undertaken about a week ago.

She invited him in, and watched in mild amusement as his eyes widened with shock at the sickly form of Ren, laying motionless on her floor.

"Is he okay?!", Hux demanded loudly, dropping to his knees and grabbing Ren's wrist, to feel for a pulse. His other hand shot out and felt the knight's forehead, checking for a temperature.

Unable to open his eyes more than a slit, and still unable to speak, Ren felt annoyed. If he had had the strength he would have yanked his wrist away from the General and slapped his hand off of his forehead. 

As it was, all he could do was let out an irritated grunt.

Phasma quickly explained the situation to Hux, and timidly informed him that touching Ren while he was in this state was ill-advised.

"He can't respond, but he's aware of everything that's going on."

Hux looked at her, then at Ren, and his earlier suspicions that these two were together, in a way that was more than purely friendly, stuck at him once more.

Phasma, while she couldn't read minds like Ren, was actually quite adept at reading people. She took in the General's expression and guessed at what he was thinking.

"We're not, uh, together, if that's what you're thinking. We're friends. Just friends. That's it. I know how this looks, but that's not the case at all."

Hux nodded, coming closer and sitting down in the opposite chair.

"I'm sorry if I implied anything else," he murmured, taking off his hat and fiddling with it in his lap. "I should have more trust in you, as one of my highest ranking officers."

Ren scowled, and the words "What about trust in ME?" formed in his head; although he was still too far gone to voice his objections aloud.

"Is he going to be alright?", Hux asked, nodding towards Ren's slumped-over figure on the floor.

"He'll be fine. The, uh, the training Snoke has him do, it completely drains him mentally. It'll keep doing this until he's used to it. He'll be fine; he just can't move well, or speak, until the feeling subsides."

Hux nodded, looking at Ren with interest. He knew that Snoke kept him quite busy training in various ways of the Force, but it had never before occurred to him that Ren's training might be painful for him. He made everything look so easy, even show-offy; and it was somewhat disconcerting to know the consequences behind his 'gifts'.

It also explained a lot of things, though. Like the fact that Ren had a long standing habit of rubbing his fingers over his forehead and temples quite frequently. Or the fact that his training sessions were hardly ever during the day, almost always in the evening, after all his other duties were taken care of first. 

This kind of thing during daylight hours would probably render him useless.

Hux felt awkward, sitting here and speaking to Phasma about Ren as if he wasn't even in the room. Awkward, yet for reasons he couldn't explain to himself, he couldn't make himself get up and leave, not until he saw with his own eyes that Ren would indeed return to normal.

Phasma must have sensed his discomfort, because she smiled, and stood up, looking at him.

"Would you like a piece of pie, General? I made it myself, earlier. It's a mix of jogan fruit, and nuts."

Hux looked at her, a little surprised. No one ever offered him food. For that matter, no one ever made him feel as though he was welcome to stay in their quarters, for longer than absolutely necessary.

He returned Phasma's smile as naturally as he could (although the unfamiliar action did hurt his mouth a bit) and said "I'd love a piece."

She went into the kitchen to cut him a slice, leaving him temporarily alone with Ren. Ren was still moaning softly, his head in his hands, his body still prostrate on the floor.

Ren could sense Hux looking at him, and could feel the worry he had regarding the situation. He wished he could give him some reassurance that he was all right, or that he would be, anyway, once the pain ended.

He also really wanted a piece of jogan fruit pie. 

Hux devoured his first piece of pie, discovering, as Ren had, what an excellent cook Phasma was. By the time he finished he felt comfortable enough to ask her for a second piece, which she gladly brought him, beaming that her food was being appreciated by someone other than Ren.

A second piece! Ren thought to himself in dismay. If this keeps up, there won't be any left for me!

He tuned out the conversation Hux and Phasma were having, and focused on feeling better.

Little by little, the pain receded from his head and his upper body, allowing him slight movement.

He could open his eyes all the way now, and he watched Phasma as she talked with the General.

She truly was beautiful, and Ren doubted that she was even aware of how magnificent she looked.

Talking about ME getting married, he thought to himself. If anyone needs to be mated to someone else, it's her. It would be a shame to let those culinary skills, not to mention those genes, go to waste.

He shifted his eyes to Hux, watching the way he looked at Phasma as he ate his pie.

That could be a good match, Ren thought to himself. They both have strong tactical minds, and they're both good-looking.

Yet even as he watched, he could tell that Hux didn't find the Captain to be desirable in THAT way. He thought she was pretty, yes, but that was more a registered fact than a compelling thought. A fact like, the sky is blue. Stars come out at night. Phasma is pretty.

I wonder what his type is--if he even HAS one.

Ren suddenly realized that he could unclench his fists from where they had been balled up at his sides, and the worst of the pain had left his head.

He experimentally sat up, then slowly raised himself to his feet, swaying slightly. 

At first neither Hux nor Phasma noticed, deeply absorbed in their conversation. Then Phasma glanced over at him and gasped a little.

She quickly stood up and took him by the arm, guiding him over to the chair next to Hux and gesturing for him to sit. She went into the kitchen and brought him a glass of cold water, which he drank down greedily, parched.

"You're okay now?", she asked him gently, taking his glass. She smoothed his matted hair back from his forehead, watching his face with concern.

He nodded, then croaked out, "Pie?"

She laughed and lightly hit at his shoulder. 

"Is food all you ever think about? Okay, I'll go get you a piece. Don't move."

She returned to the kitchen, and Ren looked over at Hux, noticing the way he was watching him.

"I'm not dying," he said in a low voice, closing his eyes and leaning back into the chair. "I hear what you're thinking. I'm not dying."

Hux was silent, before relying "Does this happen each time you train with Snoke?"

Ren opened one eye and looked at him. "Only until I'm used to it. It won't hurt once its normal."

"I didn't realize before, that this actually hurt you."

Ren shrugged, as Phasma came into the room with his pie. He took the plate weakly from her hands and balanced it on his knees, taking slow, appreciative bites.

Hux watched him for a few minutes, trying to convince himself that Ren was really fine. Satisfied that he was, he stood, handing his plate to Phasma.

"I really should be going," he said, glancing from one to the other. "I need to file this," he said, holding up the report that Phasma had given him, "Then I need to go over my itinerary for tomorrow."

Phasma looked at him, with her head tilted. "You don't have to rush off, General."

Hux opened his mouth to say something, then quickly changed his mind.

"Thank you for the pie. It was delicious," he said with a smile.

He walked to the door, pulling his greatcoat and his hat firmly back on his body.

"Good evening."

-.-.-.-

"You're not wearing your helmet."

It was several days later, and Ren and Hux were in Hux's office, discussing strategy on an upcoming raid. Something had been different about Ren, but Hux had been too preoccupied with planning to really notice what it was.

It finally came to him as he looked up from his papers and noticed Ren biting absently at a hangnail.

"Oh," Ren said, touching his face. "No. I thought--I thought that maybe it's time to stop with the mask."

He offered no explanation beyond that, and Hux didn't push him on it. After all, it was his face; he could do with it as he liked.

"It doesn't, uh, the lack--it doesn't make me look weak, does it?"

For the first time, Hux took a long, uninterrupted look at Ren's face. Even in the dimness of the room, Hux found Ren to be quite impressive.

His dark eyes glittered against his pale skin, his long black hair moving gently in the breeze coming in through the open window. The red scar that extended from cheek to the top of the eye gave his face a broken, dangerous look, as if he were made of some expensive material that had been meticulously sewn together. 

He noticed, also for the first time, the faint scatter of freckles and dark moles that adorned Ren's face and extended down towards his neck and chest. These spots gave Ren a pleasant illusion of boyish youth, although, like Hux, he was in his early 30's. 

His lips were pressed together in that natural pout he had, and looking at them, Hux suddenly felt a little dizzy.

Although he had no idea why.

Hux started a little as he realized that he had been staring, and Ren was looking at him anxiously, still waiting for an answer to his question.

"Well, Ren, if I had a face like yours, I'd never hide it behind something as blocking as that helmet."

Now a tinge of pink spread over Ren's pale cheeks, and both men hastily looked away from each other, before either could acknowledge it.

"Thanks," Ren mumbled, and the two went back to their strategizing without any more interruptions.

-.-.-.-

"Lie down."

Simultaneously, every stormtrooper dropped to his belly in the thick mud, their elbows taut at the sides.

"Ready."

Every man rose to his knees in one fluid motion.

"Advance."

The men took off running for the end of the course at a sprint, each man trying to beat out his fellow comrades and reach the finish line first.

Ren watched them move with a small smile on his face.

Captain Phasma was ill, and he had volunteered to oversee the squadron that she normally commanded, until she was better.

This was part charity and part selfishness.

Selfish because his main reason for volunteering (other than helping his friend) was that Snoke would postpone his increasingly painful training regimen until Ren handed the reins back over to Phasma.

And Ren could definitely use a break, from that.

There was something exhilarating, about being out in the cold, the rain and the wind with a group of soldiers, shouting commands and instructing them in various forms of combat.

When he had first walked out here, in place of Phasma, unmasked and carrying his lightsaber, a great swelling of fear and anxiety had risen off of the men in a powerful wave. 

They got over that quickly as they realized he was merely out there to supervise, not plunge his blazing sword through anyone's heart.

Hopefully.

As the men returned from their sprint and lined up in front of him, panting and sweating, Ren stood silently, giving them a moment to catch their breath.

When everyone was calm again, he pointed to the treacherous obstacle course in the distance. 

He gave them a short speech about how the course represented life, and the challenges that one faces in life.

"There are unexpected drops, twists and turns. There are some points that it is difficult to get beyond, without the help of your fellow soldiers. That is what I want you to practice on that course: teamwork."

"You," he continued, pointing at a sturdy looking man. He took a stopwatch from his pocket and handed it to him. "I want you to be the leader for this exercise. Nobody is leaving until the entire squad can overcome the course in two minutes or less."

To the rest of the men he said, "Help each other. Learn where your personal weaknesses are, and that of your fellow soldier. Work as a team. Conquer this course as you would your enemies; swiftly, and without mercy. And, most importantly, conquer it together. Understood?"

"Sir yes Sir!", came the unanimous shout from the assembled men.

Ren watched as they moved off towards the course, and carefully observed the way they tackled the various obstacles, the walls and the ropes, the spikes, and so on.

The appointed group leader stopped the drill again and again, as time ran over two minutes. He singled out various men and partnered them up with others that were strong in areas they were weak in, and vice versa. Slowly but surely the times improved, and Ren commended the man he had out in charge on the progress he was making.

"You do remarkably well with a squad," a voice drawled from the darkness. Ren turned around, squinting into the shadows, and watched as Hux emerged, arms folded across his chest, and smiling.

Ren shrugged and turned back around, watching as the men struggled and helped each other over the sleek obstacle course.

"I'm not nearly as efficient as Phasma. They listen to her because they respect her. They listen to me because they fear me."

Hux glanced at him, frowning. 

"So long as they listen, what's the difference?"

At that moment a cheer rose up among the men, and the man he had put in charge came up to him, excited.

"One minute, 34 seconds," he said, beaming proudly as he held out the stopwatch to Ren.

Ren took it with a smile, replacing it in his pocket.

"Excellent work," he told the man.

He turned to the others and said "One minute, 34 seconds. Impressive. Most impressive. With time, and practice, I expect this squad to get the timing to under 1 minute. And now, you may dismiss."

All the men bowed toward him, then wandered off in two's and three's, their minds a mix of getting cleaned up, and seeing what the mess hall had for supper.

When they had all went back inside the building, Hux turned towards him, and, with a grin, said,

"Do you think YOU could do that obstacle course in less than 1 minute?"

Ren looked at him and scowled. 

"I'm sure I could. All these years I've had physically training with Snoke, I should be able to handle something as paltry as an obstacle course."

"Of course you could," Hux said; but something in his tone seemed slightly mocking.

Ren read his thoughts, and stared at him in disbelief.

"No. There is no way you'd beat my time on that, Hux. I honestly doubt that you'd even get through the damn thing."

"Really?", Hux asked, raising an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Hux, I've had YEARS of physical training by now. I don't think I've ever even seen you jog, before!"

"That's a poor argument, Ren. Just because you don't see something, doesn't mean it's not there. After all, you can't see the Force, can you?"

Ren watched in mild shock as the General took off his heavy overcoat and his hat, laying them neatly at the edge of a bench. 

He was really being serious.

"Take that stopwatch back out of your pocket, and watch me," Hux said, stretching out his limbs in preparation. "And no cheating."

"Hux, you can't be--"

"And then it's your turn after," he said, giving Ren a defiant look.

Ren was about to argue further, but held himself back. Instead he sighed and reset the stop watch, holding it in his palm.

They positioned themselves in front of the course, and Ren cleared his throat, asking,

"Are you ready?"

Hux nodded, determination spilling out of his eyes.

"Okay, then, on 3. One, two . . . three!"

He clicked the stopwatch on, and watched open-mouthed as Hux shot off like a bullet, scaling up the wall and navigating the spikes and the vertical bars with ease.

He had never suspected that Hux was in any way athletic. Ren was almost mesmerized, watching as the pale redhead flew through the course at lightning speed, sweat and adrenaline giving a glisten to his face and arms.

When he swung over the rope and climbed the final wall at the end, Ren hit the stopwatch.

He looked at it, and frowned.

52 seconds.

Hux trotted up to him, breathing hard, and beamed as Ren silently held out the watch to him.

"See? I told you. Under 1 minute."

Ren scowled as he began to strip out of his outer robes, leaving himself in his pants and tunic. He flexed his arms, stretching, and Hux couldn't help but notice how strong, how muscular his arms looked.

Something else he had never noticed before, hidden as Ren's arms always were under the robes.

He swallowed, then reset the stopwatch, watching as Ren took his place in front of the course.

"Okay, on three. One, two . . . three."

Ren also took off like a shot, and Hux watched as he swung himself up and over and through the various obstacles of the course. Beads of sweat stood out on his face, and his tunic pulled slightly out of the front of his pants, revealing a very sculpted set of abdominal muscles.

Seeing that, for some reason, made Hux feel flustered; and he very nearly forgot to hit the stop button as Ren came to a halt at the end of the course.

He looked down at the time in disbelief, frowning.

When Ren came up to him, he held it out silently, watching as his triumphant facial expression changed.

52 seconds.

Neither said anything at first, both putting their outer clothes back on as Ren caught his breath. 

"It's odd," Hux said slowly, breaking the silence, "But it appears you and I are perfectly matched. For once."

Ren nodded, not looking at him.

"It would appear so."

Hux looked at him, and found that Ren was staring directly at him with his large dark eyes. For a second, all the thoughts flew out of Hux's head. He looked down, and now he was staring up close at the abs he had gotten a glimpse of on the obstacle course.

He distracted himself by quickly pulling out his datapad from his coat pocket. Speaking towards Ren, he said, casually,

"I don't know about you, but all that physical nonsense has me hungry. Do you-- want to join me, in mess hall?"

Ren bit his lower lip, thinking. 

"I, uh, maybe some other time, Hux. I'm going to go visit Phasma for a while, see how she's doing."

"Oh," Hux replied, disappointment coloring his tone. He quickly replaced it with his usual gruffness. "Well, send her my well-wishes."

Before Ren could say anything, Hux turned and marched quickly back into the building, not looking behind himself as he headed to Mess.

After a moment, Ren did the same, as he went to see Phasma.


	4. Chapter 4

The dry, scorching wind swirled  
around him relentlessly, blowing grit and dust into his already- streaming eyes. He used the hood of his robe to shield his face as best he could, his irritation growing as it was continually blown back by the strong gusts.

3 days.

Ren and Snoke had been on this dilapidated planet for a solid three days, and nothing had seemed to change, from the moment they stepped off the ship.

And indeed, to an outsider, it would seem as though the landscape never changed. The dying walls of this once magnificent city stood like watchmen over the sand, guarding its inhabitants from warriors of days long past.

The few temples that were still  
standing had become tombs for the Sith masters of old, housing the sun-bleached bones and fragments of clothing that had once belonged to these fearsome  
Masters of Darkness. 

The cracked marble floors gleamed in the faint sunlight that broke through the opaque windows,  
the walls echoing the sounds of the wind and the elements.

The crumbling walls still vibrated  
with the energy of those that had dwelled here before them, the collective dark matter sustaining Ren throughout the long, tedious day. He had but to place his hand against the ancient stone, to feel the swell of power, of strength,  
that was still trapped beneath the surface.

They were here to, as Snoke put it, "find inner peace in the darkness of the ruins." This planet had once boasted an impressive stronghold to a group of Sith warriors that lived and trained in harmony with one another. That "peacefulness", if that was the word one would use, had been broken when one of the Masters made the cowardly decision to defect to the Jedi, initiating the death and destruction of this place, and that of his fellow brothers and sisters.

The two spent a handful of quiet, uninterrupted days here, meditating in the uneasy silence and feeding off of the still-palpable dark energy that manifested in the stillness.

Snoke had also imposed a fast for them, which was not unusual, but difficult for Ren to follow. Try as he did to control his body, his stomach often interrupted into loud physical protests over the lack of food, and Snoke would give him one of those disapproving looks that he seemed to always have specially for his apprentice.

At last their retreat came to an end, and Ren watched as Snoke's guards, who always accompanied his Master no matter what, loaded the ship with a few fragments of stone and marble that Snoke insisted that take back with them, for future focus and concentration.

Ren watched his Master as he watched his guards. 

For as long as Ren had been with Supreme Leader Snoke, training with him, working under him, doing his bidding--there was still a great deal that he didn't truly know about him.

Where he came from.

Whether or not he had once had a family.

How he became so powerful with the Force.

And, perhaps most importantly, why he had chosen Ren as the one to pass his knowledge and power down to.

Ren had often thought that it was simply because Snoke wanted a tie-in to one of the most universally excepted strong families in the Galaxy; the Skywalker clan.

Having Darth Vader as your grandfather was no paltry thing. 

Ren knew that he was strong with the Force, and that Snoke was more or less drawn to him not only because of that, but because of his powerful bloodlines, his lineage.

Also, as much as Ren did not like to admit this to himself, but it was the truth: Snoke knew that Ren could easily be manipulated towards the Dark Side. Ren lacked the strong moral conviction of his mother, and the mental strength of his Uncle. When Snoke had found him, he had found a young man full of doubt, and fear, and had used this things to wheedle his way into the young Ren's mind.

But Ren was not as stupid or naive as Snoke may have thought; at least, not entirely so.

Deep down, he knew from the start that Snoke was using him for his abilities. He also knew that, once Snoke had gotten all he felt he could get out of Ren, he would inevitably destroy him.

Ren knew these things, but chose to keep his knowledge to himself.

His father had been the one to bring Ren's worst fears out into the open. For a moment, a split second of time during that final confrontation between father and son, Ren had been--tempted.

Tempted to walk away from Snoke and the First Order.

Tempted to leave this sham of an empty life behind.

Ready to return to his family, and the love and acceptance he knew waited for him there.

A few moments at best, but still quite powerful.

And then the part of him that had been groomed and cosseted by Snoke had spoke up inside his mind, loudly and clearly, and he had turned away from these 'weak' thoughts, putting an end to them by putting an end to his father's life.

He thought these things, now, watching his Master. He wondered, as he sometimes did: if Snoke were to suddenly die, would Ren still be here? Would he still feel tied to The First Order, to the Darkness?

Snoke glanced up at him, and a thought hit Ren as clearly as if the words had been spoken out loud.

~It's too late.~

He wasn't sure whether the thought was his own, or whether Snoke put it there.

Now Snoke was smiling at him, gesturing for him to get on board the ship, and Ren went obediently, resigned.

Resigned.

-.-.-.-

Ren stood on one of the high observation platforms, watching across the field as a group of stormtroopers practiced their blaster skills on the shooting range.

He folded his arms across his chest and stared out at his men, but he wasn't really seeing them.

A memory had come, one of those vivid thought bubbles that pushed past the boundaries he had set up in his mind, and flooded his whole body.

He was remembering smells, sounds, and voices.

He was remembering people.

Two people in specific, two whose faces plagued him in the deepest reaches of the night; whose voices tormented him worse than anything Snoke could subject him to, hit him  
harder than any pain he might feel.

His mother, and his father.

If truth be told, it was not such a strange thing for him to be thinking of his father. He did so quite frequently, especially after Han's little 'accident' on Starkiller so many months ago.

But his mother was a different story.

Whereas with his father Ren had felt a kind of chilled indiference, towards his mother he had always felt the strongest love, and a deep admiration for her, on numerous levels.

Growing up, he had had quite a powerful force bond with the quiet, diminutive woman. He had been able to communicate with her in his mind long before he had the faintest inking of what the Force WAS; and the link continued to exist, even now.

From time to time, his mother, wherever she was, would reach out to him, sending him little thoughts and messages in regards to his health and well-being, and conveying her love for him.

While he heard her projected thoughts, and he knew that SHE knew he heard them, he made no attempt to communicate back to her.

Snoke had warned him from the very beginning that unless he could curb his dangerous pull towards the light side, he would never reach the full potential that Snoke was mercilessly grooming him for.

"It is, after all, what destroyed your Grandfather," Snoke would say to him in that almost-fatherly way he had, putting a firm hand on Ren's shoulder. "He couldn't resist the call to the Light, and in turn, it devoured him, destroyed him."

He would turn to his apprentice at the end of his litany regarding Ren's grandfather, and say,

"But surely, you're stronger than that? Aren't you?"

And Ren would agree, and work even harder at blocking out all that which sought to bring him to ruin.

Leia Organa-Solo was Kylo Ren's sole remaining pull to the light, and he worked hard to resist her, and her repeated calls to him.

Yet as hard as he fought, she fought harder, and was relentless in her attempts to bring her son home to her.

Sometimes, besides the arbitrary messages she sent him, she was able to project full-blown memories of the past into his mind, and despite Snoke's teachings, he found himself ill prepared to resist the pictures that sprang forth in his mind.

What he saw now, staring across the field at the men but not seeing them, was himself.

He was around 13 or 14 years old, thin and gangly-tall. By this time he was well into his training with his uncle Luke, and lived with him and the other students at the Jedi temple. The only time he saw his parents was when he visited on the weekends.

As a child, he had been impossibly shy, and painfully self-conscious. He spoke so quietly that one had to lean towards him to fully hear him, and he rarely looked anyone in the eye unless absolutely necessary.

Part of this was just plain loneliness. He was an only child, and his parents were both busy a lot of the time. He had little in the way of friends, and preferred to read or draw rather than spend time with the other students at the academy.

But a bigger part of this was that he felt he was ugly. 

His father was ruggedly handsome, with a charisma that made him desirable to be around to both women and men.

His mother was, and always would be, to Ren anyway, the most beautiful woman in the entire galaxy.

But Ren felt that he looked nothing like either of his parents, and he was reluctant to be seen with either of them, in public, because of this. His self consciousness and his paranoia made him believe that everyone was always staring at him, and drawing negative comparisons between these two beautiful people, and the hideous son they had produced.

His vision unfurled further and he saw himself, standing on the back porch with his mother, waiting for his father and Chewbacca to arrive so they could eat dinner.

"Where are they?" Ren had grumbled, sitting in a chair and drumming his fingers along the tabletop.

"Now, Ben; be patient. They'll be here soon."

"But I'm hungry."

Leia smiled, and dropped a kiss on her son's forehead.

"Isn't patience something that Luke should be teaching you?", she asked him teasingly, a lilt to her voice.

Ben sighed and nodded, folding his hands together neatly on top of the table. He looked at his mother, so calm, so cheerful, and a question occurred to him. It was one that he often pondered to himself, but had never asked his mother.

Now seemed like the perfect time.

"Mom," he began, then paused. He lifted his water glass to his lips and took a long swallow, dispelling the dry ache from his throat. "How come--how come YOU never trained in the Force?"

His mother sat down, looking thoughtfully at her son. She knew the answer but she didn't know how to explain it in a way that he would understand.

After a few silent moments, she said, leaning slightly forward: 

"It wouldn't have made a difference in my life, Ben. It wouldn't have mattered, or changed anything."

He had stared back just as thoughtfully, trying to make sense of his mother's words.

"It wouldn't have made a difference?", he had repeated, a tiny bit of anger coloring his tone. "So are you saying you think this is pointless? Or, like dad calls it, 'smoke and mirrors'? If that's the case, why did you send me to Luke at all, if none of this 'matters'?"

Leia shook her head. 

"No, son, I'm saying it wouldn't have mattered to my own life. But it does to yours. The Force is in your destiny; I've always felt that, even when I was still carrying you. But it's not in MY destiny."

"Everybody has to make their mark on the galaxy, in the way that's best for THEM," she said. "You can't let the actions or the beliefs of others influence how you go out into the world, how you approach life. I'm sure that if I wanted to learn from Luke, he would be willing to teach me. But my life already has meaning beyond what he teaches. I have my work with the Senate. I have your father. I have YOU," she smiled, and she got up and came over to him-leaning over to kiss his cheek, before returning to her own seat.

Ren had blushed, and thought seriously about his mother's words. They made sense; everything she said always made sense. But still; he couldn't help but ask the next question that sprang to his mind.

"But don't you ever wish you could use the Force, even a little bit?"

Leia sighed and shook her head slightly. To Ren's complete and utter shock, she stretched out her hand in front of her, furrowing her brows in concentration. The water glass sitting in front of Ren jiggled just a bit, and Ren watched open mouthed as it slid slowly across the table and into his mother's waiting hand.

She caught it with a grin, then stretched out her hand again and pushed it back towards him, this time floating it in the air and setting it down gently in front of his hands.

He looked at her, and she looked at him, smiling in that lovely way of hers.

He had so many questions he didn't know where to begin, but before he could stutter a single one out, he heard Chewbacca's distinctive roar behind him, as he and Han made their way out onto the porch.

"Sorry we're late, honey," Han said, going to kiss his wife on the cheek. "The front thruster on the ship blew out, and we had to stop and fix it before we could make it home."

Leia had rolled her eyes, heading into the kitchen to bring out the long-waiting food. "Don't apologize to ME," she called over her shoulder. "Your son is the one whose been out here starving to death."

Han turned towards his son, that familiar roguish grin on his face. "Benny boy! Just the man I wanted to see. I have something for you."

Ren had watched as he dug deep into his pocket, taking out a small, triangular shaped piece of silver currency, with squiggly red-gold markings all over it. He tossed it to his son, who caught it effortlessly, and looked it over curiously.

"What is this?"

"Chewie and I found it at our last trading post. The lady told us that it's supposed to bring good fortune, and luck. Everyone could use a little luck, wouldn't you say?"

"So, you don't believe in 'magic', but you believe in luck?"

"Luck plays a bigger part in life than you'd think, kid. Bigger than that 'destiny' crap your mom and your uncle are always carping on about. Watch and see if I'm right; that coin will bring you more than your magic ever will."

Hearing his father speak that way was irritating to Ren, but it was also funny. He had started to laugh, so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks, and after awhile his dad joined him, and then Chewbacca, all roaring with laughter before his mother walked back out with the food, and looked at the three of them in confusion.

"What's so funny?"

Ren had pointed at Han, hardly able to stop laughing long enough to say, "Dad is being an idiot again."

Han pointed at his son, and said, "Your son is being a hokey wizard again."

And the laughter continued.

The vision receded slowly out of Ren's mind; and for that, he was relieved. Thinking of the past was utterly painful, and his mother probably knew this.

Another way for someone that he loved to torment him.

As he brought himself back into the physical world, he suddenly realized that he was no longer standing there alone.

It took him several moments to realize that Hux was standing next to him, and shaking his shoulder quite hard.

" . . . the matter with you?" Hux was saying, rapidly snapping his fingers in front of Ren's face. When Ren finally blinked and showed some signs of recognition, Hux let out a relieved, if exasperated, sigh.

"Finally! I've been standing here trying to get your attention for at least five minutes, now! I thought maybe you had heatstroke or something."

Ren focused his eyes directly on the General's face, and scowled a bit.

"I'm fine. Is there something you wanted?"

"Oh, no, not at all. It's just that, well, there was a little meeting you were supposed to be present at--TWO HOURS AGO!"

Ren frowned. Two hours? Had he really been standing here and hallucinating for two whole hours?

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just--I lost track of time, I guess. Have one of your assistants bring me the minutes of the meeting; I'll go over them and get back to you with my notes in the morning, okay?"

Hux sighed and nodded, tapping a reminder for himself into his datapad to do just that. As Ren started to leave, Hux reached out and grabbed his arm lightly, forcing Ren to stop and look at him.

"Are you positive that you're alright? You don't look so well. Maybe you should go to Med Bay and get checked out?"

Ren ripped his arm away from Hux, and snarled, "When I want your advice on health matters, I'll ASK you for it, General. And I'd appreciate it if you kept your kriffing hands off of me."

With that he turned and strode off into the building, leaving Hux looking after him in confusion.

-.-.-.-

"Are you busy?"

Hux looked up from his papers, shaking his head no and gesturing for Ren to come in.

Ren sat in a chair, and pushed a stack of papers across the desk toward Hux. It was the minutes of the meeting, with Ren's notes and contributions scribbled along the sides of the dialogue.

"I didn't expect you to bring me this until tomorrow morning," Hux said, flipping through the pages and reading Ren's sloppy handwriting.

"I know; but I figured I'd get it done early and bring it to you now. It's--my way of apologizing, I guess. For earlier."

Ren paused, then launched into a short explanation of why he had been so snappish when Hux had startled him on the observation deck, telling him about the "hallucinations" without going into detail about what they entailed.

Hux sat quietly, listening to Ren speak.

"Do you have visions like this very often?"

Ren sighed and massaged his fingers slowly across his forehead.

"Not as frequently as I used to," he answered, closing his eyes. "Normally I'm good at blocking the out. Only the really strong ones break through."

Hux thought about that, and again thought about how complicated it must be, to be gifted (or cursed) with something like the Force. He found himself wondering how Ren was able to hold onto his mind at all, with so many confusing and conflicting things pounding through it at what seemed like a constant pace.

Hux was sure that HE wouldn't be able to handle something like that, and, while he wouldn't say this to Ren, he admired his strength immensely.

He noticed the way Ren was sitting in the chair, hunched forward, tilted at an unnatural angle, and he remarked on it.

Ren responded by saying that his back was hurting, again, sitting like this brought some small amount of comfort.

"Maybe I can help you."

"What do you mean?"

"You're doing that because you're carrying tension in your upper body. I studied this, for a while, on my home planet. Your posture is all wrong, and you carry your weight in the wrong places."

He dug a book out of his desk, and tossed it to him. Ren looked curiously at the front cover.

"The Art Of Relaxation", he read aloud, opening the book and thumbing through the various pages and pictures. 

"I don't think that can help you mentally; I'd have to find a book that specifies how to be relaxed when you have the Force. But I think it can help you physically, a little."

Ren opened to a page on different massage techniques, and studied the diagrams carefully.

"This looks really relaxing," he said, pointing to the pictures. 

"If you want, I can arrange for a droid to come to your quarters, and give you a message. It might be a while, because I would need to find a person who could program this info into its computer chip, but once I do, it might be a good release for you."

Ren made a face, and closed the book.

"Thanks, but no thanks. Cold droid hands don't sound very appealing."

Hux smiled, and before he could think too hard about what he was about to do, he stood up and walked behind Ren.

"Take off your cloak."

"What? Why?"

Hux pulled off his gloves and rubbed his two hands against each other rapidly, to warm them.

"I'm going to give you a massage."

Ren flinched forward, away from Hux's hands.

"You--you don't have to do that."

"Nonsense. It'll just be a few minutes, and I guarantee it'll ease your back, at least for a little while."

Ren looked at him, then sighed and nodded. 

Hux set to work at once rubbing his shoulders and upper back, kneading the strained muscles and working away at the horribly painful tension.

Ren's initial uncomfortableness with the situation quickly passed, as he allowed his body to relax and lean fully into Hux's touch. His hands were warm, and steady. They moved expertly over his tight shoulder blades and his long neck, putting Ren into that rare state of perfect, blissful ease.

As he massaged, Hux spoke to him  
in his low rough voice, telling him different funny stories about his day, or things that had happened with his officers, and the like.

Ren was listening, but he wasn't listening so much to what Hux was saying as to how his voice sounded, saying it. His voice was low, and soothing, the words flowing together in a perfect, gentle melody.

It took him a minute to realize that Hux had just asked him a question.

"Huh?", he asked, keeping his eyes closed and his head lolled forward.

"I said, am I rubbing you too hard? Sometimes I can get over-enthusiastic with my hands."

Ren shook his head slightly, and smiled.

"No. Feels good. Don't stop. Please."

Hux continued to work at him, and smiled as he felt the tension ebb and flow out of Ren's skin, underneath Hux's hands. He watched Ren's face as he had his eyes closed, so relaxed, so peaceful.

So--so beautiful.

Without being aware of it, he was leaning closer and closer to Ren, his eyes greedily taking in the details, the angles and planes of his pale face. His pointed nose. His impossibly long eyelashes.

His-his full, red lips.

Hux had stopped, and Ren opened his eyes, to see why; and was startled to find Hux's face very close to his own.

"Hux? What are you doing?"

Whatever daze Hux appeared to be in, he snapped out of it quickly, and backed away from Ren.

"I just--I just remembered that I have a lot of paperwork to get done, and . . ."

Ren stood up quickly, nodding. 

"Of course. Well, I won't hold you up anymore. Thank you, for this. I feel much better."

And he did. The tenseness in his back and shoulders had gone, as had the heaviness in his chest. He felt more loose and limber than he had felt in a long while, and for this, he was grateful.

He turned to go, before stopping at the door.

"Hux?"

"Yes?", Hux answered, still not looking up from his papers.

"Captain Phasma and I have the day off tomorrow. We were thinking of going on a fitness hike up the Keysian mountain, in the late afternoon when the day has cooled off some. I--WE would like it, if you joined us."

Hux nodded, without looking up. "I'll think about it, and I'll let you know. Okay?"

"Okay. Goodnight, General."

"Goodnight, Ren."


	5. Chapter 5

He looked out the window at where the sun was sitting low in the sky, a ball of fire sinking into the gray-pink clouds.

Wait--into, or out of?

He stared at it for a few moments in concentration, trying desperately to lift the fog from his brain so he could think.

"Sun . . . set?", he finally said aloud, glancing at Ren.

He nodded, his expression turning to one of worry over Hux's frightening confusion. "Yes, its sunset."

Hux was silent but his mind was racing in muddled fear. Where had the day gone? He couldn't remember any of it. He couldn't remember anything past crawling out of bed and finding his way out here, to his living room, to talk with Ren.

As the light in the sky rapidly faded, dispelling the natural light in the room, he stood up and turned on the bright fluorescent ones. As he did so, he began to shiver. Not so much from the chill of movement as the mental strain he was battling against.

General Hux had been ill for a little under a week, now, having picked up the strong, virulent species of flu that was spreading around the base. Phasma had had it a few weeks ago, then Kylo, then several of his Lieutenants, and now Hux himself, although he tried his hardest to hide this.

He did not like for anyone to see him in such a weakened state, especially not his subordinates. He was particularly lucky in that the worst of the disease hit him during a time when he had a few days off of work, and could remain safely hidden in his quarters without anyone noticing his absence.

Kylo had come to see him, full of questions about a meeting he had overseen in Hux's place, and had noticed right away how sick he was.

"Did you bring the minutes of the meeting with you?", Hux asked him, annoyed at how congested his voice sounded.

Ren pulled a sloppy scramble of papers from his pockets, with his sloppier handwriting all over it, detailing things that he wanted to ask Hux about.

Hux answered his questions as thoroughly and quickly as he could, fighting against his growing headache and the pain in his neck. 

At first Ren tried to ignore it, as preoccupied with his notes as he was. But eventually the long lulls in conversation, and the sniffling that Hux was trying (and failing) to keep to a minimum, caught his attention.

"Maker, Hux, you look and sound like you're dying," Ren said, finding his way into Hux's refresher and coming back with a handful of tissues. "Your face is almost as red as your hair."

Hux took a tissue and held it to his dripping nose. 

"Are manners something that's a part of your training?", he grumbled.

Ren raised an eyebrow and chuckled. 

"I got up and got you tissues. That seems like good manners to ME."

"I could do without the commentary."

"And I could do without your snarky commentary about MY commentary, you imbecile."

Amazingly, instead of lobbing another insult at him, Hux began to laugh. He laughed until he coughed, and once he started coughing, he found it hard to stop.

Eyes squeezed shut, hunched forward in his chair, he expelled the painful brays from his chest. When it was finally over, he sat completely still, afraid that the slightest movement would send him into another fit.

As he regained awareness of his surroundings, the first thing he noticed was the hand. The strong, steady hand pressed against his back, patting lightly, steadying him.

Ren's hand.

"Stop that," Hux muttered, lifting his head and looking at him. It wasn't what he had meant to say, or wanted to, not at all--but the hand and the way Ren was looking at him made him feel funny.

Which was odd, considering Hux hadn't felt "funny" at all the day he had soothed the pain out of Ren's back and shoulders with his impromptu massage.

But having Ren touch HIM; it was different.

Ren must have felt it, too, because he slowly drew his hand away, with a low "Sorry."

The silence between them grew, with Hux torn between wanting Ren to stay, and to leave; and Ren worried about leaving Hux alone in this state.

A series of low knocks on Hux's door made them both jump slightly, and Ren looked at Hux, waiting permission to go to the door.

Hux nodded at him, coughing into his fist, and watched him cross the room and open the sliding doors.

It was Phasma, standing there and holding a small container of something.

She looked up at Ren and did a double-take. She turned her head to the left and re-read the number on the door, thinking she had somehow gone to Ren's quarters by mistake.

"You're in the right place," Ren said, laughing a little at her surprise. "I just--I came to see Hux about the meeting. What are YOU doing here?"

She stepped around him and into the room, timidly greeting Hux. "Good evening, General. Sorry to bother you but I thought you might like some broth. It's good for you, when you're sick."

"How did you even know I was sick?" Hux demanded, blowing his nose. "I didn't tell anyone."

Phasma smiled, and sat gingerly next to him on the couch. 

"The last meeting we were at together. Your cheeks were flushed, and you kept clearing your throat. That's how it started with me."

"It's funny; I never receive visitors when I'm well. But when I'm sick, everybody suddenly comes out of the woodwork to utterly torment me."

"Hey," Ren snapped at him, glaring. "You can make comments like that about ME all you want; but you won't say such things about Phasma. She was sweet enough to bring you food, and you won't be disrespectful of that. You may be her superior, but I'm yours. And I'll choke you."

Hux stared at him incredulously, unsure of whether Ren was being serious or not. 

"First of all, Kylo Ren, I was KIDDING. Surely you know what a JOKE is? And second, you're not my "superior", as you so daftly put it. We're equals."

"Gentlemen, please," Phasma said, laughing nervously. "I swear, you two get along worse than anyone I've ever met before."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, as Ren so delicately vocalized. I'm always a bit overly cranky when I'm sick."

"That's a good excuse."

"Well, what's HIS excuse for being an ass?", Hux asked, pointing at Ren. "HE'S like that all the time, sick or not."

"What you call 'being an ass', others may call leadership skills, or charisma. You may want to rethink your point of view."

Hux groaned, holding his head in his hands. "Don't throw that point of view Jedi nonsense in my face, Ren. I'm not quite up for it."

The look on Ren's face darkened, and he leaned forward in his chair. "It's not 'Jedi nonsense', you ginger twit! I'm warning you, General; make one more disparaging remark about the Force, and--"

"Okay, okay," Hux moaned, shaking his head. "Maker, were you put in my life just to irritate me? Why can't you sit there quietly, like HER?" He asked, pointing at where Phasma was sitting (and trying to repress her laughter at the men's aggressive banter) next to him.

"She's got more patience than me. And she's smarter."

"I won't argue that. You think I don't believe in the Force? Watch this."

Hux leaned towards Ren with his hand extended, and two fingers pressed together. He waved them slowly back and forth towards Ren's face.

"You WILL bring me a glass of water," he chanted with a grin.

All three burst out laughing when Hux withdrew his hand, Ren hardest of all.

"Did you--did you just try to Jedi mind trick me?", Ren asked between laughs.

Hux nodded, a smile on his face. "I did. Did it work?"

"I guess, since I'm going to go get you a glass of water," Ren answered, standing and going into the kitchen. He picked up the container Phasma had sitting on the table, with the broth in it, to put it into the conservator. 

When he returned with the water, Phasma and Hux were chuckling over something else, leaning towards each other.

Ren thought, again, how good of a match that would be, between the two. He knew that there was nothing other than professionalism ((and now, the faintest inkling of friendship)) between them, but still. Some people didn't care for each other right away, but later ended up falling head over heels in love.

Like his parents.

They had loathed everything about each other, the first time they met ((on the Death Star, of all places)), but that loathing had quickly turned into deepest passion, and unshakeable love.

~Kind of like how YOU are with Hux, huh?~

It was another of those phantom voices, one that came from his mind but didn't feel like it was his own thought at all.

What are you talking about?, he answered back in his head, curious.

Silence.

He set Hux's water glass down in front of him, and picked up his papers where they lay scattered across Hux's table, stuffing them once more into his pockets.

"I'm going to get going, General," he said, glancing back and forth between the redhead and the Captain. "Talking to you wears me out."

Hux nodded, saying "Thank you" for the water, and bidding him goodnight.

Phasma made no move to get up, and Ren left them behind, closing the door on a warm wave of their laughter.

-.-.-.-

Hux quickly got better, and resumed his usual vigorous command on board the ship and on the base.

Ren was glad he was back to normal; he hated having to step in for Hux when the latter was indisposed. But at the same time, he felt rather funny.

Since that day Phasma had come to bring him broth, the two had slowly developed a more friendly disposition with each other than before. Talking, laughing--and just last week, Ren had gone to Phasma's quarters for his daily visit and had arrived just as the General was leaving.

Maybe he was right, in that the two would develop an attraction to each other, given enough time to get to know one another.

But rather than feel triumphant about his prediction becoming a possibility, he felt--rather odd. Almost sad. And he couldn't quite put his finger on WHY.

He told himself that he was just jealous, in a friendship aspect. Phasma was HIS friend, first, and Ren wasn't used to sharing what he believed to be his with other people.

But, looking deep inside himself, he found that that wasn't it at all.

He found that the entire possible 'love' angle was bothering him, but again, he wasn't sure precisely how, or even WHY.

It irritated him, feeling so confused. 

Phasma never spoke of her budding friendship with the General, and Ren never questioned her on it, feeling that, if something of a romantic nature WERE happening between the two, it was none of his business, anyway.

So he continued with his daily visits to her quarters, and tried to put on the same lighthearted persona that he had always had, in her presence.

And failed miserably.

One night he stumbled in after one of his training sessions, half blind and in tremendous pain. Phasma did the routine of laying him out on the floor and putting a pillow under his head, sitting down to read while he thrashed and moaned.

By the time he was able to get to his feet, Phasma was looking at him curiously. She got up and went to get him a glass of water. As she put it in his hands, she said, "That's new."

"What's new?", he asked as he chugged the water down, then went to sit in her armchair.

"The talking. You were mumbling out words during your fit. More than just words; full sentences. Clear as day. You've never done that before."

He frowned, not able to remember doing so.

"What did I say?"

"A lot of nonsense stuff. Also a lot about the General. Quite a bit about him, actually. Did he make you angry or something?"

Ren blushed, and looked down at his feet. "No. I haven't seen a whole lot of him this week, besides the usual meetings and drills. YOU'VE probably had more contact with him than I've had."

Phasma smiled at that. 

"I guess so. I like talking to him, and spending a little time with him outside of work. He can be quite interesting."

"Sounds like you've nabbed yourself a boyfriend," Ren said, looking at her, and immediately felt embarrassed. He hadn't meant to say that; it had just shot right out of his mouth.

Amazingly, Phasma was laughing.

"Boyfriend?", she chuckled, shaking her head. "I could never even picture something like that; at least not with Hux."

Ren looked up at her curiously, as she continued.

"No. General Hux is a very nice man, of course, but I'm not interested in him like that. And I highly doubt he sees me like that, either. Not my 'type', I guess you could say. I just like talking to him about things that go on with the troopers, and training. Things like that."

Hearing her say that loosened a knot in his chest, one that he hadn't even realized was there. He let out his breath in a low hiss, and quickly preoccupied himself picking at the fringe of his robe, so Phasma wouldn't see his face.

"So what IS your type?", he asked quietly, still not looking up at her.

She sat on the arm of the chair he was in, staring thoughtfully into space.

"To be honest--I don't think I have one. I had beaus when I was much younger, but nothing ever panned out. Probably why I came HERE. When you cut out all distractions, excelling at your work is a piece of cake."

"At least you had 'beaus'," Ren told her, laughing bitterly. "Jedi training forbids any and all romantic or physical attachments to others. The one time my uncle caught me thinking 'inappropriately' about one of his female students, he put me through a training course so difficult I thought I would break all my bones."

Phasma frowned, looking down at him. "I didn't know that," she said softly. "That sounds really difficult to deal with; especially for a young man entering puberty."

"But do you know what the worst part is? I still FEEL like that boy, that awkward 15 year old shy boy who could move a mountain with his mind, but couldn't even talk to an attractive girl without breaking out in a cold sweat."

Phasma patted his shoulder lightly. "Hey, that's not fair. You talk to ME, don't you?"

"You're different."

"Different? Is that your way of telling me that I'm not attractive?"

"No! Of course not! I'm just saying, I think of you as a friend. You know that in and of itself is nothing short of a miracle; I was never strong at making or keeping friends, either.  
Force, Phasma--do you realize that I've never even been KISSED? Can you believe that? At 32 kriffing years old."

"What are you talking about? We kiss each other all the time."

He rolled his eyes, burrowing further into the chair.

"You know what I mean.", he said, closing his eyes.

He snapped them open when a heavy pressure on his legs startled him. Phasma. She had jumped into his lap and was facing him, her hands on either side of his head against the chair.

"Gwen, what-"

Before he could finish the sentence, quite suddenly, her lips were on his, pressing into them with an unexpected warmth, and soft sweetness.

He was too shocked to return her kiss, too shocked to do much than sit there and let her assault him with her mouth.

Eventually she pulled away, and they stared at each other for a few moments, unsure of what to say.

And then all at once the two of them burst into laughter, chortling until tears were running down their faces.

When she could speak again, she said, "That was awful. That felt like I was kissing my brother!"

"I wouldn't say awful," Ren said, a wide smile on his face. "And thank you. Now I can say I've had my first kiss, and with someone I care about."

"Good. I'm glad."

"Can I ask you a question, though?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm not trying to be rude, but, um, you're a bit heavy. Would you mind getting off my lap?"

She started to laugh again, and raised herself off of Ren.

"Sorry. Better?"

"Better. Now are we going to keep awkwardly kissing, or are you going to feed me? I'm starving, here."

Phasma chuckled, and wandered off into the kitchen.

"You need to work on your sweet talk, in case you're ever kissed for real," she called over her shoulder. 

Ren doubted that he ever would be.

But this had been a nice compromise.

For now.

But something was bothering him, something that he couldn't tell Phasma, and he could barely explain to himself.

When she had been kissing him, desire had shot up through his body and clenched at his chest, making him feel weak and dizzy.

But it wasn't desire for Phasma.

Rather, as she had kissed him, a picture rose up fiery and unbidden in Ren's mind, of him sharing a kiss with someone else.

Someone with hair as red as his face had turned, sitting there and thinking about it.

"Well, come on, Kylo. It's ready. Don't keep me waiting all night!", Phasma called out to him impatiently from the kitchen.

So Ren shook the confusing images from his mind, rising to join his friend for dinner.


	6. Chapter 6

Ren walked around the high bright windows, looking at the gaggle of children inside the room behind with a frown.

He and General Hux had launched tireless campaigns across the galaxy to recruit new stormtroopers-in-training, to quickly make up those that they had lost in the aftermath of Starkiller.

They pulled these men and women from various places in a wide variety of cities across the stars. Broken, poor, disheveled, no families--these were the types of creatures that they made it a priority to recruit. Those who could easily be persuaded to leave behind a life of nothingness and despair to join their ranking. Some agreed to come with them for the honor, some the companionship they'd been deprived of their entire lives--other simply for the paycheck.

But whatever the reasoning, the result was always the same. Once they were solidly entrenched in The First Order, once they had been given warm beds, decent meals, and the brainwashing rhetoric that was as much a part of the training as using a blaster; they were hooked.

The past half-year had been spent replenishing their diminished army, going through a high turnover rate as they searched for those with the stamina and the fortitude to stick it out. And for the most part, they had succeeded; by the middle of that year, the First Order was nearly completely up to its full compliment of soldiers, again.

Once that had happened, Snoke decided that it was time to go back to the ways that they had procured soldiers in the beginning: raising them and programming them from birth to early childhood.

A new facility had been built, a large building that housed these babies and children separate from the rest of the base, and began them on the long and arduous road to training as future soldiers.

They obtained these children in much the same way as they had the adults; from the poor, the broken, the unstable. They approached expecting parents and those who had many young children underfoot; those who were more than eager to trade in another mouth they wouldn't be able to feed for a hefty paycheck, and the "prestige", if that was the term one would use, of saying that their son or daughter had been chosen by the most powerful faction in the galaxy.

Not that these parents would actually be able to see or speak to these children again, once they were "recruited".

Not that they wanted to.

At the moment, they had approximately 100 new young trainees, ranging from infant to 12 years of age.

They were fed, bathed, clothed, and attended to mainly by droids, although human interaction was employed once combat training was begun. They were educated in reading, writing, mathematics and History; in particular the lustrous history of The Galactic Empire, and of course, the First Order.

They were kept in close units, Snoke insisting that the constant interaction with one another would bind them together, and provide a stronger army for the Order. Which he was more than correct about.

If the parents who had given up these children could have seen them, they would not have been able to deny that their progeny were certainly well cared for. They were kept in the very best of health, and never lacking for anything that which they might need.

Once basic education had finished, the extensive combative and weapon training would begin. They would start their first courses by age 13, and graduate from basic training by 17. From there, they were official soldiers of the First Order, come what may.

Ren stood now, watching a group of the younger ones through the windows of this bright facility, and thinking to himself.

Something about this whole setup made him intensely uncomfortable, although he couldn't put his finger on WHY, exactly.

The deeper he dove into his mind, the more complicated his reasons become. At the very, very surface of his thoughts, however, was this: this reminded him of being sent away to his Uncle Luke, as a young child, to live and train at the Jedi academy.

Even at 5 years old he had protested being sent away, both vehemently and articulately; but his pleading and arguments came to naught. His mother was stubbornly insistent that going to Luke was the best possible thing for him, and his father, although not a believer of the Jedi arts, was trusting enough of his wife to comply with her wishes.

"You're lucky," she had told him, walking him into the temple, "You'll get to come home to us every weekend. There are lots of kids here who don't have that advantage. And Luke's your uncle, and he loves you, Ben; he'll take the best possible care of you."

And she had been right, of course.

Luke did love him and he did take the very best care of him, investing a great deal of time and effort into the talented boy, whom he referred to as his prodigy.

But the loneliness and the anger at being sent away in the first place would not, did not, and never fully went away. Luke's teachings couldn't block it out, nor could his mother's constant appraisal that his skills and power would take him farther than he ever dreamed of.

"I guess you were right about that, mom," he mumbled to himself. "Look at how far I've come. Standing at the window and watching a group of children whose lives have already been chosen for them, the same as mine had been. How far, indeed."

He continued to stand there, watching them play and brooding over his memories, when a voice near his elbow snapped him back to awareness.

"There's a lot of them, aren't there?"

Ren turned around from the window, and found himself facing a small, middle-aged woman wearing clean white scrubs, her hair pulled back in a knot. A medical technician of some kind, from the looks of her.

Confirming his guess, she held out her hand with a smile, and said, 

"I don't think we've met, before. My names Docia. I'm one of the new nurses here, for the LK-100 unit. Or these guys here," she said, gesturing at the group through the windows. "And you are?"

He put on a mock-stern look, and said, "I'm Commander Ren, leader of the Knights of Ren, apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke."

"Oh! Oh, I beg your pardon," she said, taking a hasty step backwards. "If I had known who you were, I never would have been so bold as to approach you."

Ren smiled at her fear, and the thoughts he could read coming from her mind. She had heard a lot of things about him, mostly bad, in regards to his infamous temper and his murderous reputation. 'He doesn't look at all like I thought someone like him would look', was the thought rising to the top of her brain.

"How did you expect me to look?", he responded to her unspoken thought, a slight grin on his face.

"Much older, for one," she said timidly, her eyes wide at having her mind read. "And rougher. Perhaps a few scars or a missing arm, or something."

He burst out laughing, and the sound of it put her at ease. "Missing arm? I wouldn't go THAT far. I do have a scar, though," he said, lightly tracing the one across his face.

She frowned, getting a little closer. "You can hardly see that."

"Thanks."

They both turned back towards the windows, watching the little ones engage in free time.

"They're so cute at that age," she said, smiling. "So happy. Of course, they won't be happy once I go in there for the shots."

She turned to him curiously.

"I don't suppose you have children, do you?"

He shook his head, continuing to watch the kids romp and play in the room. "No. The life that I have here wouldn't be accommodating to a child, or a family, in a number of ways."

He glanced at her, and watched the way her eyes looked as they followed the kids in their play. Something about the wistful look in her eyes brought the question to his own lips:

"What about you? Do you have any children?"

For some reason, her face blanched, and she looked as though she were struggling with whether to tell him something or not. Curious as to what it was, he picked it out of her thoughts.

"He's yours?", he asked in an amazed whisper, his eyes going towards a small boy whom her energy was focused around.

"Yes," she whispered back, briefly closing her eyes. "I know what you must think; that I'm one of these mothers who just let her child go for the sake of a few credits, without caring what happened to him once he was gone. But it wasn't like that, at all."

"I was in a bad way, before I had Samuel," she whispered, her eyes still lowered to the ground. "His father left me, and my family cast me out. I was all alone, and I didn't know what to do."

She took a steadying breath, before continuing.

"I managed to give birth to him, and feeding him was relatively easy while he was still nursing. After that, though, I was at a loss for what to do. There were no jobs for women where I lived, and no one I could ask for help."

"About 6 months ago, I was approached by one of your recruitment agents. They promised me that he'd have a better life, food on the table, an education, and training to be a soldier. I--I couldn't turn him down. I couldn't deny my son the chance for a better existence."

Her voice had gotten very low, and Ren was under the impression that she was struggling to hold back tears. He looked tactfully away, as he waited for her to finish her story.

"A few months after that," she continued, having gotten herself under control, "I was approached by a different recruiter; this one looking for workers to come and care for the children on their base. Well, of course I jumped at the chance, thinking I could be reunited with Samuel. Maybe earn enough money to take him away from here, take him home. But when I got here, and saw how well adjusted he was, all the friends he had made--I saw that he already WAS home."

She turned her eyes back towards the boy, watching as he played a game of tag with a group of kids.

"He doesn't remember me at all," she said in a whisper, "And I don't want him to. I wouldn't want to ruin his chances here, or make it hard for him. At least this way, I can always be near, and keep an eye on him. Watch him grow up; even if he has no idea who I am."

"It's hard, being a parent. Harder than you could imagine. Wanting the best thing for them, when you're not even sure what the best thing is for yourself. But you make your decisions and stick to them, and you pray for the best. I hope I made the right decision for Samuel. I hope one day he'll grow up, and be happy, and understand that I only sent him away out of love. I -- I hope."

Now she turned to Ren, a fearful pleading etched on her face. "You won't tell, will you? I mean, of course you have every right to, but--"

He put his hand on her shoulder, interrupting her.

"It'll be our secret," he said, managing a smile for her. "Now, you should get in there and administer those shots, while they all look relatively calm."

Docia hesitated, then leaned up on her tiptoe and planted a swift kiss on Ren's cheek. She whispered a soft "Thank you" into his ear, before going into her little office to get the tray full of needles to wheel into the room.

He watched through the window as all of the children lined up obediently for their immunizations, holding out their arms and bravely taking the needle prick. He watched until the former Samuel held out his arm for his turn, and he saw the warm smile Docia gave him when he approached.

But there was no recognition in the son's eyes for his mother.

None whatsoever.

Ren turned away quickly and walked from the building and back to the main base, his head swirling with clouds over what he had just seen, and heard, and his own persistent memories.

For the first time in over a decade, he launched a thought directly at his mother, focusing all of his energy at the woman he both loved and hated with all the intensity of Tattoine's twin suns.

I miss you, mom.

He waited a bit, terrified, excited, waiting waiting for an answer.

But none came.

She must be busy, he thought, trying to shrug it off as unimportant as he continued on his way.

Busy.

Just like when you were a kid, huh?

On his way to his quarters, he stopped at General Hux's office, to switch out his datapad for one with newer batteries.

He sat in a chair next to Hux's desk as he waited for the General to find him a new pad, thinking of nothing, thinking of EVERYTHING, when a single teardrop slid down his cheek and onto his chest.

No, no.

Hold it together, Ren, at least until you get back to your own quarters.

Hold---it---

He began to cry, softly, unable to hold it back any longer. All his confusing, pent up emotions from the day escaped from his eyes and trickled down his cheeks.

"Ren? What's wrong?", Hux asked him, very startled. Ren had seen Hux break down numerous times before, but Hux couldn't recall ever seeing Ren lose control in a way that wasn't just pure anger.

Looking at him, the way he was hunched over, his hands to his face and sobs working their way out of his throat--it was scary.

Scary and heartbreaking.

It made Hux's chest hurt, in a way he hadn't known it could hurt, to see how much pain Ren seemed to be in, for whatever reason.

"I'm--I'm just tired," Ren choked out between sobs. "I'm just so tired."

It wasn't what he meant, not entirely, but it was the only thing he could think to say.

And in a greater sense, it was true.

Or it was the only truth that mattered.

Utterly exhausted.

Without stopping to think about it, Hux crossed the room to Ren and put his arms around him, drawing his head to his chest and holding him tightly. He wound his fingers through Ren's soft dark hair, rocking him gently back and forth the way he had done for Hux, so long ago.

At first Ren was unresponsive to Hux's touch, his body stiff as a board in the redheads grip. And then something else gave way and he circled his own arms around the General's narrow waist, tightly, so tight that Hux could barely breathe.

But Hux didn't seem to mind.

He just continued to stand there, wrapped around Ren, letting him soak the front of his shirt with his pain.

-.-.-.-

Up, down, breathe. Repeat.  
Up, down, breathe. Repeat.

Ren ignored the sweat that was rolling down his forehead as he continued to lay on the bench and pump the heavy weights up and down.

It was late, quite late, but as usual, Ren was having trouble sleeping.

Rather than do his aimless walk around he base, he decided to visit the gym he had been neglecting all week.

He ran around the track a few times, did a series of pull-ups and push-ups, and now he had moved on to the weights.

Up, down, breathe. Repeat.

Of all the physical things that he did to maintain his physique, lifting weights was by far his favorite activity. There was something soothing about the repetitive arm motions, the triumph of lifting that which threatened to crush him, and taking the victorious breath that came from that accomplishment.

By default, Ren categorically hated everything about his body. 

He hated the pale skin that refused to tan no matter how long he spent in the sun.

He hated the dark hair that waves around his neck.

He hated his long nose, his large ears. He hated his freckles.

As much as he wished it otherwise, more often than not when he looked into a mirror ((which wasn't often at all; Ren avoided mirrors like the plague)) he didn't see himself as he really was; rather he saw the gangly 15 year old boy with pimply skin, greasy hair, freakishly long limbs, and a nonexistent smile.

The one physical feature that he was proud of, in his adult life, were his arms.

Toned and muscular, and strong, they were the one aspect of himself that he felt he could control.

Up, down, breathe. Repeat.

The room was silent save for the clinking of the weights and his own measured breathing, and he enjoyed that silence as a form of meditation.

When he was working out, his thoughts and memories didn't bother him, the way they bothered him everywhere else. And the only voice that whispered inside of his head was, mercifully, his own.

He closed his eyes as he lifted, entering into that state of peaceful ease and comfort that was so rare for him.

He was so relaxed and so focused that he didn't know he wasn't alone until another person came right up on him; and he nearly dropped the weight down on his neck as a finger tapped his shoulder.

He jerked a little, then blushed, then scowled.

"Force, Gwen," he said, carefully lifting the weight back onto the bar, "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"I didn't mean to scare you, I just--"

"You didn't 'scare' me," he said, indignantly, "You just surprised me."

"Fine. Sorry for 'surprising' you, then."

He grabbed at the top of his shirt, using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Couldn't sleep," she said, sitting down at the far end of the bench. 

"Yeah, me either."

She looked at the weight he had been pumping, and shook her head. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to lift weights by yourself? If anything happened, if your arms have out or anything, you'd be crushed."

"I don't think it's as serious as all that," he said, looking guiltily at the floor. "They're not even that heavy."

"Nothing SEEMS heavy until you lose control of it, and it's squashing you like a bug," she retorted.

Ren shrugged but said nothing.

"Move over; I want to try lifting that."

"I don't think so, lady. That'll break your arms off!"

She rolled her eyes, scooting over so that she was nearly scooting him off of the bench. 

"I just want to TRY it, I said. If it's too heavy I'll let you take it. Part of the benefits of having someone WITH you, while you lift weights."

Ren opened his mouth to argue further, and then abruptly closed it. He knew she wouldn't stop pestering him until he let her do it.

Without a word he moved fully off the bench and stood at the head of it, readying the weight to hand down to Phasma.

She laid on the bench with a grin and flexed her arms, stretching.

"I'm ready. Give it to me."

He lifted the weight easily from its perch and placed it gingerly into her waiting hands.

She took several deep breaths and pumped it slowly up and down, more than a little surprised that it didn't seem nearly as heavy as it had looked.

In fact, it felt almost easy, moving the heavy steel up and down.

TOO easy.

"Ren!", she exclaimed suddenly, in an accusatory voice, "Are you using the Force to help me right now?"

"What? No!", he answered loudly, and quickly.

Much too quickly.

She experimentally took her hands off of the bar, and the weight stayed there on its own, floating in mid air.

Ren couldn't help but laugh at her annoyed expression, as he levitated it back onto its rest.

Phasma sat up, still glaring at him, and Ren sat down beside her quietly.

"You're too over-protective of me, you know that?"

Ren shook his head. "No, I'm not. I just don't want to see you get hurt, is all."

"I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself, though."

"Well, maybe you can take care of yourself, but I can't take care of MYself. I need you around to take care of me. So self-interest alone would have required me to move the weights for you, and 'over-protect' you, as you put it."

Phasma put one arm around him and hugged him, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Ohhhh, Kylo; that's the most non-romantic thing anyone's ever said to me!", she trilled in a sing song voice, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "But now I see more than ever that I need to step up my quest to find you a wife. Taking care of you is too big a responsibility for just me."

"Maybe I don't want a 'wife'," he said, looking sideways at her. "Maybe I want--something else. SomeONE else."

Now Phasma looked at him curiously.

"What do you mean?"

"If I told you something, do you promise not to laugh, or be disgusted?"

She frowned, and smacked him on the shoulder. "You know me better than that, Kylo."

He took a deep breath, and turned to fully face her.

"I thought I was imagining this; and maybe I still am. But these past few months I've been having, I don't know what exactly you'd call them, 'feelings'. Strong ones. For . . . for somebody."

"For . . . somebody?", she repeated, her face an excited glow. "That's wonderful! Who is it?"

"It's G--"

At that moment the doors to the gym burst open, and one of the night guard troopers rushed into the room. 

"Captain Phasma, ma'am; there's been an incident with the refresher in trooper bunk room 67-F. It needs your immediate evaluation and repair approval."

Phasma sighed and scrubbed her hand wearily across her cheek. She had put in countless repair requests for this one refresher, and the maintenance men could never seem to stop the flooding for more than a week at a time.

"I'll be right there," she told the trooper with a low sigh. He saluted her and hurried away.

"I've got to go and take care of this," she said, standing up. "We'll talk more tomorrow, all right?"

Ren nodded and watched as she sped off, both relieved and annoyed that they had been interrupted before he could get his full confessional out.

Mostly relieved.

He tidied up the little weight area and gathered his things, switching off the lights as he went out.

He was more than ready for sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

It always surprised him, how quietly it came down. The fat white flakes looked heavy enough to cause booming thunder all along the ground; but when it fell, there wasn't the slightest sound to announce its arrival.

Slow, soft, and quiet. Like a secret.

Ren was standing outside in the first wave of new snow, both watching several squads run drills in the distance and practicing his lightsaber skills and form, which he had been neglecting as of late.

And it showed, in the clumsy way he kept dropping his saber into the snow, producing that loud unpleasant hissing sound each time the blade struck the ground.

Maybe if it wasn't so cold out here, I could hang on to it better, he thought to himself as he whirled around and around, his sword slicing through the air in rhythmic patterns.

Yet, despite the snow, it wasn't REALLY that chilly out. There was a pleasant warmth in the air, and a luscious clean scent filtering down from the clouds and around the base. But he was shaking nonetheless, and trying his hardest to control it.

At first the shaking was confined to little quivers of his hand as he grasped the cold metal handle of his lightsaber, expertly wielding the blade back and forth through the whizzing white air.

Then it spread, from his hands, to his arms, and finally all over his body. His teeth chattered so hard that he could hardly hear the whistling of the wind over them.

He was aware, dimly, that this shivering had nothing at all to do with the cold (or lack thereof), and everything to do with his mind.

The last time he had been out in the snow, standing with the lightsaber glowing red against the ivory banks, had been nothing short of disastrous.

What was supposed to be an easy acquisition--the pretty little scavenger girl for his Master--had turned into an abortive mission that earned him the scar across his face, wounds that went deeper than the skin, and an uncomfortably close brush with death on the cold surface of a dying planet.

When Hux had found him, bruised, bleeding, dazed and half-dead in the snow, Ren had been surprised.

Surprised that Hux had been able to find him in the first place, and surprised at how angry he felt at being found.

And surprised again when Hux, whom Ren had never seen exhibit ANY sort of physical strength before, lifted him from the ground and slung him in a fireman's carry over his shoulders, and brought him to the ship himself.

Thinking about these things, and his failure at Starkiller, was interfering with his present day task. So he pushed the horrid thoughts clean out of his mind, focusing entirely on his moves, and the weapon in his hand.

After awhile, it worked.

He became finely attuned to his endeavor, swinging the saber around while completing a series of impressive acrobatic moves. Backflips, side-twists, spirals through the air--the only sounds penetrating his ears was the hum of his fiery red partner, and his own smooth, controlled breathing.

Which is probably why he didn't hear the crunch of heavy boots coming behind him; nor was he prepared for the finger that tapped him on the shoulder.

He swung around, and came within inches of slicing General Hux's head off. He backed away, heart pounding at his close call, and switched off the saber.

"Do you have any idea, how stupid it is to approach someone with a lightsaber in their hand? Especially when that person is focused on their training and might not SEE you in time?"

"Forgive me, but I didn't fancy shouting for you like a madman into the wind," Hux said drily, stepping closer. "This is part of your training?"

Ren nodded and resumed his movements, this time with the saber remaining off.

"You could say that," he said in between positions. "It's more or less a way for me to keep loose, and practice my focus, for when I have to fight someone."

Hux watched him for a few moments, before saying "It actually looks really beautiful, what you're doing. Artistic, in a way. Did Snoke teach you this?"

Ren laughed a little. "Some, yes. But honestly, most of this is from Luke."

"Your uncle Luke?"

"The one and only."

Hux continued to watch, and then he cleared his throat and said, timidly,

"Can I ask you something?"

Ren stopped his movements and looked at Hux cautiously. He thought Hux was about to ask him what it was like, training with the infamous Jedi knight Luke Skywalker.

But what came out of his mouth was, "I've known you for so long now. In all this time, you STILL haven't fixed your lightsaber. Why?"

Ren scrunched up his face, narrowing his eyes as he answered, in an annoyed growl, "It's not broken."

Hux was shaking his head stubbornly. "I've studied pictures of lightsaber designs before, Ren. The cross guard on yours is quite a few centuries outdated. And the--what do you call it? The kyber crystal, its got to be cracked or something, otherwise it wouldn't flame like that, or make that growling noise."

Ren smiled a little, running his fingers over the handle of his beloved saber.

"Very impressive, General, that you not only think I've made this incorrectly, but you've taken the time to research WHY it's incorrect. That kind of criticism takes real dedication. Very flattering."

It appeared that Hux blushed a little; or maybe it was just the natural rosiness that comes from standing in the cold. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and said, stubbornly,

"Right or wrong, Kylo, the thing is clearly unstable. Much like yourself."

Ren flung out his arm and ignited the saber, and for a heart stopping second Hux thought he was about to slice into him, for his comment.

Instead, Ren gently took hold of Hux's wrist, and handed his saber into Hux's hand.

The weight of it surprised Hux, and the gravity. It almost felt alive, in the way that an ordinary sword or a blaster didn't feel alive; and powerful.

He moved his hand experimentally back and forth under Ren's watchful eye, listening to the low growling that the thing made as it sliced through the air.

It was--it was perfect.

Holding it, Hux was aware of a feeling of perfect balance, and surprising stability.

And power.

He handed it back to Ren quietly, watching as the latter shut it off and clipped it into his belt.

"See? It's not broken, just different. Unique."

Hux nodded, unsure of what exactly to say. Normally he had some witty retort for Ren's comments, but right now his mind was blank.

Finally he blurted out, 

"You could still change the crystal, though; if only to change the color. I've never been that fond of red."

"Really? I love it," Ren said, and without thinking about it, his traitorous mouth spilled out, "Reminds me of your hair."

Ren immediately turned red, himself, after saying that, and this time the cold wind wasn't to blame for the tinge that spread across Hux's cheeks and neck.

The snow had stopped just in time for sunset, and beyond them the squad leaders were calling in their troops for the evening. The last of the light left the sky, and the colors faded out into a dusky blue-white.

Silence, and then shrill laughter echoed through the dark. Both men turned in the direction of the lighthearted sound, and both smiled as they saw its source: one of the younger children had broken away from his guardian, and was running joyfully through the soft snow.

Ren and Hux watched as the guardian caught the child, harshly reprimanding him as she led him by the hand back towards the building.

When they were out of sight, Hux turned to Ren, a smile on his face.

"Do you have training to do with Snoke this evening?"

"No. Why?"

"I was wondering, maybe, if you'd like to come back to my quarters?"

When Ren tilted his head and stared at him, Hux hurried on:

"I mean. Um. You don't have to, but. It's just, I've been experimenting lately with this Naboo recipe book Phasma gave me, and, um. I'd sure appreciate an honest opinion on this roast I made yesterday. Before I bring some to Phasma. IF you want, that is."

Ren smiled. "So in other words, you need a test subject."

Hux nodded. "That's a good way to look at it, yes."

When Ren remained silent in thought, Hux rushed out "But like I said, if you don't want to, you--"

Ren interrupted him by putting his hand, lightly, on Hux's arm. "I want to."

Before he could stop himself, Hux's face broke out in a brilliant, youthful, and wholly un-general-like smile. He quickly scaled it back, but not before Ren had seen it and matched it with a smile of his own.

"Okay. Let's go."

The two walked side by side back into the building, their boots crunching in unity over the ice.

-.-.-.-

"So what happened?"

"Nothing."

"---nothing?"

"Nothing."

Phasma threw up her hands in exasperation. "Maker, Ren, what's the matter with you?! You had him alone, it SOUNDS like you were having a good time, you were comfortable -- but you didn't make a move?"

Ren was sitting on Phasma's couch, after his latest foray into Hux's quarters. He had gone over there a number of times in the past few weeks, after work, and before Phasma. He and the General talked, laughed, and Ren would sample the latest dish that Hux had made for Phasma, from the recipe book she had given him.

In this whole time, neither man had the courage to initiate any sort of contact or conversation with each other that wasn't purely friendly. Ren thought that he could feel something in the air between them, some barely tangible feeling that floated around them when they were together, that got stronger each time they were near.

Ren THOUGHT that, but he wasn't sure.

Whether Hux was doing this on purpose or not, his thoughts were carefully guarded from Ren, and thus made it impossible for Ren to gauge whether or not the General felt anything at all for him, like what Ren felt for the General.

Ren voiced his doubts about the situation to Phasma now, and was met with an impressive eye roll.

"Clearly, he likes you, too. Otherwise he wouldn't keep making food for ME as an excuse to get you over there to "test" things out!"

"Or it could just mean that he's lonely, and he knows I like to eat."

"Well, you need to do something, and soon. This has to end. Look at me!", she exclaimed, grabbing her stomach and jiggling it. "All his little dishes are putting pounds on me! Pretty soon I won't even be able to keep up with my squad anymore."

Ren looked at her and chuckled. "Oh, it's not THAT bad."

She shook her head and yanked him by his hand into the kitchen. She pulled open the conservator door. "Look at that, and tell me it's 'not that bad' again."

Ren looked in mild disbelief. She had more food and containers crammed in there than he had ever seen before in one persons conservator. 

And they were all dishes sent by Hux, 'tested' first by Ren.

I've really been over there that many times?, he thought to himself. 

As if reading his mind, Phasma closed the door and said, softly, "All those dishes represent a single solitary time that you could have told him how you feel."

Ren sighed and sat down at the table, laying his head on his arms and pulling his hood over his head. 

"You think of things too simply," he mumbled from beneath the cloth. "What if he doesn't feel anything other than friendship for me? What if, IF I told him, it disgusts him? You know that Hux is Mr. Order and Discipline; I don't think he'd approve of a relationship with his fellow Commander."

When Phasma said nothing, he continued:

"And besides, there are so many things wrong with me. I'm clumsy, I'm sloppy, I have trouble controlling my temper, I'm too loud, I'm constantly moody over the voices and memories that choke me like a noose--why would Hux want someone like me? So--so unstable?"

Phasma was touching his hand now, rubbing warmly over his knuckles.

"He's not perfect, either, you know," she said. "None of us are. But I think that's what love is, or supposed to be: finding that person who MATCHES your not-perfect and putting your little quirks and oddities together, and being happy."

"I want you to be happy, Kylo. I really do. But you know what the thing about happiness is? More than anyone wanting it for you, you've got to want it for yourself."


	8. Chapter 8

Ren was biting his nails, again. Hux noticed that it was something he did a lot; or at least, he did so in Hux's presence.

Nail-biting is supposedly a nervous habit, Hux thought to himself. Something that one does when something--or someone--is making them uneasy.

Am I making Ren nervous?

As if to answer Hux's question, Ren nibbled so far down one finger that the nail snapped at the very base, eliciting a pained yelp from Ren.

"Kriff!", he exclaimed, staring angrily at the bleeding digit.

Hux took a first aid kit from his drawer, and unrolled a little spool of bandage.

"Let me see."

Ren gave Hux his hand, and Hux set to work wrapping the split nail, being more gentle with it than Ren could suspect him capable of.

"There. Now stop biting them already."

Hux was reluctant to release Ren's hand, but he did so, before the moment became too awkward. Ren was slow to pull his hand away.

Silence; and then Hux was clearing his throat and saying,

"So this should be a good time away, for you. It's been quite a while since you've been sent on a mission THIS long."

About a week ago, Snoke had called Ren, Hux, and several of Hux's lieutenants into his chambers, to discuss the First Order's recent takeover of a small planet in the Corcuscant system. The planet contained a wealth of valuable natural minerals and stones, that, harvested properly, would provide a substantial new Revenue flow for them.

"We've cleared the planet of remaining inhabitants," Snoke drawled in his rough papery voice, "And up until now its remained untouched, dormant."

He pointed at Ren with a smile. 

"Lord Ren, I want you to spearhead a mission to this planet. You will take with you a group of men deemed physically suitable by these leaders," he said, gesturing towards the lieutenants, "For mining and extraction."

"General Hux; prepare the necessary paperwork for this endeavor. Lord Ren, you leave in one week's time. And pack accordingly, you'll be gone approximately one month."

"Is this understood?", he asked the room.

All nodded and said "Yes, Supreme Leader," in unison.

Now the hour had come of Ren's departure, and he stood in Hux's office looking out the window where his ship was in view, being loaded with the necessary mining tools and provisions for the journey.

"A month hardly seems long at all, General," Ren replied to Hux's observation in a casual tone of voice. He sat down in the chair outside Hux's desk, restlessly drumming his knuckles over the polished wood.

"Seems long to ME."

"Funny; I don't recall you saying this the LAST time I was sent away. And that WAS a long time; I was gone almost an entire year. And more than one person informed me that you were very vocal, about saying I could have stayed away another year, and made your job easier."

Hux frowned, getting up and going to look out his window. His back to Ren, he said, 

"That was a long time ago, though. It was different then."

"Different--how?"

Different in that this time, I don't loathe you. Different in that this time, the thought of you going away for a single day makes my head hurt, let alone an entire month. Different in that everything's the same, but nothing is the same.

Hux thought all of those things in his mind, and if Ren heard them, he didn't let on. What came out of Hux's mouth was "Just, different."

More silence, and then Ren was speaking to him again.

"It'll be interesting, at the very least. I haven't been to that system since I was a child."

Hux nodded, and was terrified to discover that there was a very small lump in his throat. He swallowed it down, quickly, but the bitter aftertaste lingered in his mouth.

"Well, I really should be taking off, now. I'll be sending you and Snoke Comm messages and I arrive, and updates at least once a week."

Hux turned around and faced him, nodding slowly.

"Ren?"

"Yes?"

So many things that Hux wanted to say, but couldn't. 

General Hux was an important man.

Feared, revered, and respected.

He sat in the command seat of the largest army in the galaxy. A single word could send hundreds scattering, fumbling to do his bidding.

Kylo Ren was arguably the most powerful Force user of his time.

He could reduce the toughest of men to jelly with a few sentences, he could snuff the life from a man with a single thought.

Both men were possessed of an enviable intelligence, an unbelievable work ethic, and any number of qualities that one would consider desirable in a Leader.

Both were fearsome creatures in their own right--yet--

Around each other, alone, they were unable to open their mouths and speak the simple words that both needed to hear.

It was hilarious, if one stopped to think about it.

Hilarious, and tragic.

So Hux kept his thoughts to himself, and merely said to the dark-haired man, softly,

"Take care of yourself."

Ren nodded, and walked from the room without looking back.

-.-.-.-

She walked through his door, and paused when she saw him standing at his window.

He was leaning against the frame, shoulders slightly hunched, his arms folded across his chest. Even from where Phasma stood, it was clear what the General was staring at. Ren's ship was in her eyesight, as well as its loading ramp. Kylo Ren was walking up the ramp, followed by his group of Storm Troopers, his robes trailing out behind him in the breeze.

Hux gave a tiny sigh, and Phasma took the sound as an opportunity to announce her presence.

"General?", she said softly, and watched as he turned slowly to face her. His face betrayed only mild surprise at her being there behind him; the rest of it had a look of longing melancholy that made Phasma's chest hurt.

"Phasma. I'm sorry I missed our appointment; I've just been--a little preoccupied, I guess."

"It's alright; you're a busy man. Here, I've brought you a list of all the men I've evaluated to be promotable to Advanced Weaponry, along with my notes on each one."

Hux took the pieces of paper from her hand, and sat down in his chair, carefully reading them over. Phasma sat in the chair opposite his desk and waited.

"AQ-5900? Really?", Hux asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. He's improved surprisingly well in the past three months, and has shown an aptitude for the program we're taking about. I believe it'd be a good fit for him."

"Very well. I trust your judgement."

He took some forms out of his file cabinet, and wrote the number of the men suggested on their own individual form. He quickly scrawled his name across the bottom of each, before pushing the pile over to her.

"Here you are. Signed and ready. I just need you to fill out the appropriate evaluation section for each, then bring these copies Human Resources, for the transfers to be complete."

"Thank you," she said, rising from her chair. "I'll have these done by morning."

Hux nodded, and as she turned to leave, he said, "Oh, wait, I almost forgot."

He pulled the recipe book she had lent him from the top drawer of his desk, and slid it over to her. 

"Thank you for that," he said with a small grin. "I never knew before how relaxing cooking could be. 122 recipes; can you believe I made every one?"

"I can, actually. I was just telling Ren the other day how much heavier I'm getting, because of this."

He chuckled and shook his head. "It doesn't look like it from here."

"Thanks."

She was about to leave, but something about the way his face looked, and the quiet way he was speaking, made her pause.

"General?"

"Yes?", he replied in that same voice, not looking up from his papers.

"When you're finished with your work for the evening, why don't you come to my place for a while? I'm making a Terran delicacy, called 'spaghetti'. I think you'd like it."

He looked up at her, biting at his lower lip in thought.

"Do you like Holofilms?", she asked now. "Because if you do, I have several that I have yet to watch, and I would surely enjoy the company."

Hux smiled, and felt grateful. Grateful that somehow, Phasma understood how dejected he felt right now, how morose, and somehow understood that being around someone else, rather than alone, was the best possible thing for him.

"I'd like that--Gwen," he said slowly, unable to keep the smile from spreading across his face. "I have several things to finish up, here. I'll come by in about an hour, okay?"

"Okay. I'll see you there."

When she was gone, he stood from his desk and walked to his window again, staring at the now empty space where Ren's ship had departed from.

And sighed. Again.

-.-.-.-

Time has a way of dragging on mercilessly when you need it go pass by quickly, and this month was no exception.

Aside from the weekly Comms he received from Ren regarding mission status, there wasn't a lot that General Hux looked forward to in that seemingly limitless time span.

He hadn't realized, before, how much he had come to enjoy Ren's company in the evenings. His eyes as he sampled Hux's latest culinary creation. His hand gestures when he spoke of something that annoyed him. The serious, listening, unblinking way he had of looking at Hux when the latter told him bits and pieces of his childhood.

Hux tried to keep himself distracted, but it wasn't easy. There was only so much to do during any given day, with endless hours left over to think, to obsess, to dream.

Hux suspected (and he was correct) that Phasma was the only person on the base to correctly deduce why his mood was so dour as of late, and the cause((person)) behind it. He also sensed (or thought he did; that part could just be pure imagination) that she had something she wanted to say to him, to TELL him, in regards to that. Something heavy. Something--wonderful.

But he was afraid to bring whatever it was out into the open.

He continued to visit with her after work, slowly working on the list of recipes from the dessert book and bringing them to her ((in significantly smaller portions, at her pleading request)). 

One evening he was in his office, planning out a meeting for the next day, and a Comm message came through from Ren.

His heart sank as he scanned the words on the datapad.

Apparently, the planet had more minerals than had originally been anticipated. Ren predicted that his group would need to be gone at least another two weeks, to harvest them all.

Another..two..weeks.

Without thinking about it, Hux let out a shriek of frustration, and swept all the items off of his desk in one fluid motion. Papers, a vase, several datapads, and numerous other things all landed in piles along the floor.

He looked up, chest heaving, and wasn't at all surprised to see Phasma at the door, her eyes wide in surprise.

"General, what--"

He motioned her inside, and she came in and sat in the chair, looking at him curiously. Rather than say what was bothering him, he pushed his datapad across the desk toward her, letting her see the message herself.

She read it and frowned, lips pursed. "Another two weeks? That disappointing. I miss that boy."

He didn't say anything, just put his head in his hands. He was a little embarrassed at Phasma seeing him like this, but at the same time, the situation didn't feel uncomfortable. He already suspected, after all, that she KNEW.

As if to give voice to his suspicions, she was saying, softly, "You probably miss him even more than I do."

When he neither confirmed or denied this, she sighed little, looking straight at him.

"General--I think maybe it's time I told you, that Re--"

"No, no, no no, Phasma," he interrupted her, vigorously shaking his head. "Whatever you feel you have to say, just, no."

She was quiet for a few seconds, before whispering, softly, 

"I won't say it then, but I just want you to realize, that this 'situation' isn't as one sided as you may think. That's all."

Hux took that in quietly, absorbing the possible meaning behind her words.

And he smiled.

"Can you--help me?", he asked, gesturing at the messy heap of papers and items laying at the base of his desk. "It seems the Rebels attacked the base a while ago. Knocked everything clean off my desk. Rude, right?"

With a smile, she knelt and began gathering things from the floor. "Very rude. Those pesky Rebels."

Hux smiled back, and they spent the next half hour setting things to rights.

-.-.-.-.-

Finally, it came.

The day Ren was to return home.

He was scheduled to arrive in the evening, and Hux subtly cleared his schedule, and Phasma's, in order to await his arrival.

He didn't know why he felt so nervous, sitting on Phasma's couch and waiting for Ren to show up. When he was a younger man, during his academy days, he was an avid smoker of pipes and death sticks. He quit that for good as he progressed to adulthood.

Now, sitting here, for the first time in almost 15 years, he wished he had an entire pack to sit and smoke, to calm his nerves.

Eventually, there was a familiar heavy knock on Phasma's door, and she all but leapt out of her seat to answer it.

"Kylo!", she shrieked, jumping up on him and tackling her best friend against the doorframe. He hit it with a loud thud, causing him to groan and laugh at the same time.

"Easy, Phasma, easy!", he exclaimed as she pelted his face with kisses. "You act like you haven't seen me in a year!"

She hugged him very tightly to her, squeezing his waist. "It feels like it, okay? Now just stand there and shut up, or I'll be forced to hurt you."

He laughed and nodded, leaning helplessly against the doorframe as she continued to kiss and squeeze him.

This entire time, Hux had been watching the display from the couch, with a mix of amusement and jealousy. He wished very badly that he could be doing what Phasma was doing right now, and it was only with a Herculean effort that he held himself back.

As soon as Phasma released him, he stood and walked over to them, with a smile.

"Ren. Glad to see you've made it back alive."

He stuck out his hand, and Ren grasped it steadily. Then he did something that he had never done before: he pulled Hux into a warm, firm hug. They only embraced for a few seconds, but Hux felt the impact of it all the way down to his boots. The feeling of the knight's strong arms around him was the strongest sensation Hux had felt in weeks, and it was both scary and magnificent in its intensity. "I'm glad to see the base is still standing, having been without my exemplary leadership for so long.", Ren was saying as he released him, with that familiar (and heavily missed) grin of his.

It took Hux a few seconds to recover from the unexpected physical contact, to come up with a reply to Ren. He was aware that Phasma was watching them with that little half-smile on her face, and it made him feel flustered. He hoped he wasn't blushing.

"Actually, I'd say that things have been running smoother than ever, Ren."

Ren chuckled, and put on a look of mock-hurting. "Oh, well, if that's the way it is, maybe it'd be better if I just left again."

"No, you're not," Phasma interrupted, taking his hand and pulling him into the kitchen. "At least not until you have some of this cake Hux made."

Ren eyed the large Eopie cream cake sitting on the table hungrily, and his mouth began watering. He had been existing on the horrid rations on board the ship for the past month and odd weeks, and hadn't had anything that looked even remotely as appealing as this in forever.

"Phasma lent me a new recipe book. This ones all desserts," Hux said, sitting down in a chair opposite Ren.

"Desserts, huh? Nice of you to still be making her all these interesting dishes."

"He didn't make this for me; he made it for YOU. Specifically, you."

"For me?", Ren asked, looking directly at the General. "Why?"

Hux turned pink, and looked away from Ren's gaze to the table. Finally he mumbled out "Thought it'd surprise you." And then, something Ren never expected to hear coming from Hux's mouth: "I missed you, you know. A little."

Phasma's back was turned, her head in the conservator searching for the blue milk. But if she had been paying attention, she would have seen the look that passed between the two men. The confusing blend of shy, sweet, scared, wistful longing that passed, for the space of a few seconds, between them.

As it was, by the time she found the milk and turned around, the atmosphere in the room had returned to normal, the electric charge dissipated from the air.

Gone, simply leaving three friends about to share food with one another.

Which was fine.

For now.


	9. Chapter 9

"Sir, we've detained a--creature, that was passing through our orbit with a suspicious cargo ship. We. captured him, and he is in the interrogation room, awaiting you, Sir."

"A creature?", Ren replied to the guard with a frown. "You mean a non-human sentient? Well, what is it?"

"Sir, my men are unsure, but we believe it to be a Wookiee."

All the blood rushed to Ren's face, making him feel faint and dizzy. 

A--a Wookiee?

Oh, Maker.

A second guard came up behind the first, and held out two items for inspection.

"Sir, we have disarmed the prisoner and confiscated these."

In his arms was a long black-gray bandolier, and a black steel bowcaster.

Ren counted to ten, slowly, in his head, as the second dizzy spell hit him full force in the chest.

There was no doubt now.

Ren steeled himself for this confrontation as best he could, taking several deep breaths before taking the necessary steps down the hall to the interrogation room.

When he entered, he found Chewbacca strapped into the chair, with a handful of storm troopers standing warily by, guarding him closely.

"Leave us," he said, gesturing for them to exit the doors.

They all hurried out, glancing back over their shoulders at the frightening monster in the chair.

Ren looked at Chewbacca.  
Chewbacca looked at Ren.

A beat of silence, and then, "If I release you from the chair, will you attack me?"

~I should rip your arms off~ Chewbacca answered him in Shyriiwook, which, even after all these years, Ren was still quite fluent in. ~But seeing as how you've got all those men ready to blast me the second I make a move, no, I won't attack you. Lucky for you.~

Ren smiled a little, at the dry sense of humor Chewbacca had been a master at. He raised his hand to release the restraints, and they snapped off, clinking to the floor.

There was a second when Ren thought Chewbacca would just charge him, anyway, and he mentally prepared himself; yet all he did was stretch out his arms, and sit down into a more comfortable position on the floor.

Ren stood across from him, wondering where to begin.

"My men say that your ship is full to the brim with illegal spices and contraband. Are you honestly still in the smuggling business? I would have thought someone as smart as yourself would have stopped this nonsense after Han's death."

At the mention of Han, Chewbacca's eyes narrowed into an angry glare.

~Don't you dare mention him. You don't even deserve to speak his name.~

Ren folded his arms and shook his head. "I thought you had already worked out your anger, regarding that. Especially since you gave me this little piece of work," he said, lifting up his robe and revealing the long scar that was still there.

~You deserved it, Ben.~

"Again with that 'Ben' ridiculousness ! My name is Kylo Ren! Ben is dead. He has been for a long time."

~I can see that. It's a very impressive setup you have here, Kylo Ren. So many people falling all over themselves to please you.~

"They do that, Chewbacca, because they respect me. Surely you know about respect? That thing Han gave to you, to my mother, to everyone in the galaxy EXCEPT me."

~Fear is not the same thing as respect. They FEAR you. I can smell it all over everyone in this building. And Han DID respect you.~

"Well, he certainly kept it a secret, didn't he? You were THERE, Chewbacca! Every snide comment he made about my Jedi training, every time he scoffed when I told him about my hopes, my dreams, my ambitions--you can't simply ignore those things!"

Chewbacca was silent a long time, and Ren looked at him closely. He often thought it unfair that Wookiees aged so different from humans. Chewbacca was several hundreds of years old, yet despite a tiny flush of gray coloring to his chest hair, he looked the exact same as he did when Ren was a boy.

~Do you remember the trips you went with us on, to Takodana? The ones with the double imports of spices?~

"Of course I do. I remember everything."

~Then you remember Maz Kanata, too? Her palace? And her cantina?~

Ren's face softened at the mention of Maz. She was a short thing, slim, and quite magnetic. Whenever Han was anywhere near her place, he would make it a point to stop and see her, and catch up on all the latest news from around the system. She was always delighted when Ren was along on the trip, and would stuff him full of candies, cakes and pies until he couldn't see straight. Ren was taller than her by the age of 10, but it never felt like it. He was always under the impression that he was looking up at her, rather than down.

"I remember," Ren repeated softly, looking at the floor. "What does that have to do with anything?"

~You remember how she could read energies, and predict the future? One day she told your father that you were destined for darkness, and you would bring ruin to a lot of lives, including his. Do you know what his response was?~

"Did he say, 'I know?'", Ren asked sarcastically.

~No. He defended you harder than I've ever heard someone defend another person before. He told her that no matter what you did in life, he would be proud of you. That he admired your talent, and your dedication to Luke's teachings. And-- ~

"Okay, okay, stop," Ren interrupted him, shaking. The words were hard to hear, and even harder to believe.

But he did.

~My point, BEN, is that your dad DID love you, and he did respect you. More than you know. You have to understand, he didn't know his own father, growing up. And the few males in his life were very harsh with him, not ones for expressing feelings, like love. If he was hard on you, he was only trying to toughen you up, prepare you for a world he knew could be cruel.~

Ren was silent, thinking about Chewbacca's words. He knew them to be true, but he couldn't accept this fact to himself. He had lived with his hatred, his anger for so long now, that it felt impossible to let it go.

~So how are you going to kill me, Ben? A stab through the heart, like your father? Or perhaps you want to torture me first? Whatever you decide, please, get on with it. I've never been one for long waits.~

"Is that what you think I want to do?", he asked softly. "Am I that much of a monster to you?"

~You were never a monster, Ben. Even now. You're a very confused young man, who's been manipulated beyond reason. Your mother has faith that one day you'll realize this, and return home to her. And so do I.~

"I am home," Ren replied in a voice striving to be firm when he felt like anything but. "And the sooner she, and you, and everyone accepts that, the better off we'll be."

He turned away from him, so that he couldn't see the struggle on his face. "You're free to go, Chewbacca. I'll have to tamper with your memory a bit, of course, but you're free to go."

Chewbacca rose unsteadily to his feet, looking at his confusing nephew. The boy he had watched grow into adulthood. The sweet, sensitive child that bloomed into a ruthless mass murderer.

The man that looked to be on the verge of tears, standing across from him in this dark cell on this cold ship.

He wished that he could think of some word of comfort, some attribution that things would turn out all right, and one day his pain and indecision would be fragments of the past.

But as it turned out, he didn't need to say anything to the former Ben.

His eyes had already said it all.

"Chewie?", Ren said softly, looking his former uncle in the eye. "If you see my mother again, please tell her three things for me. I miss her, I love her, and I'm sorry. I'm sorrier than words have the power to convey."

Chewbacca nodded; then he did something he hadn't done since Ren was a little boy: he picked Ren up, lifting him off his feet in a bone crushing hug, patting him lightly on the head.

Ren smiled as he released him, then quickly put his hands to Chewbacca's temples, instantly rendering him unconscious. He concentrated, and extracted Chewbacca's memories of the base, and its precise location.

He pushed a button on the wall, and 6 storm troopers immediately filed into the room.

"Take the Wookiee and place him  
back onboard his ship. Fly it to the nearest outpost, and leave him  
there. And make sure you return his weapons to his ship, as well. He should remain unconscious until you get there."

"Yes, sir," they all voiced in unison. All six of them strained to carry the big creature out of the room.

He thought about it, and decided in the long run it was better not to say anything to General Hux or Supreme Leader Snoke about his unexpected 'guest'. As luck (or fate, or destiny) would have it, both were away for the day, and wouldn't return until early the next morning. Too many questions would arise if they knew, too many missed opportunities brought up.

Such as--why didn't you probe the prisoner for information as to where the rebel base was located?

For Ren, that answer was simple: if he knew where the Rebels were, he would also know where his mother was.

And so would Snoke.

And Ren knew that Snoke would mandate that he kill his mother, the same way he had ordered him to kill his father. And Ren wasn't ready for that. He could never BE ready for that.

After all that she had already suffered because of him, to then die at his hands would be the ultimate injustice for her, one that he refused to deliver on.

He made a mental note to summon the stormtroopers that escorted Chewbacca away when they came back, so that he could extract their memories, as well, just to be safe.

He then left the room behind, to begin his shift on the bridge.

-.-.-.-

He pulled off his cape and draped it over his mother's shoulders, tying it carefully under her chin. Then he leaned down and picked her up, cradling her thin body gently in his arms.

Very thin.

She had lost a lot of weight, giving her already-slender physique barely more weight than a . . . than a corpse.

The word made him involuntarily shudder, but once it was there, it wouldn't leave his mind.

Corpse.

If things kept progressing this way, and her body didn't respond to the treatments soon, that was what she would end up as.

A corpse.

Not the sweet, loving, vital flesh and blood visage of the woman he loved more than his own life. The woman who saw past all of his masks, his shield, who looked past the Monster to the Man that was inside.

The woman he couldn't see himself without, if she were to --

But no, no no.

No.

He refused to accept that reality, to believe in anything other than that somehow, some way, she would be alright again.

She HAD to be.

He looked down at her, and shock made his knees give out, crumbling him to the ground.

A skeleton stared up at him, grinning at him in horrid chumminess. The mouth still moved, speaking out garbled words, and what hit Ren's ears, right before his own screams, was

"I love you, son."

Ren woke up with a gasp, jerking up so hard that he all but fell out of bed. He drew his knees to his chin, curling up in a ball as he tried to slow his breathing in the dark.

"Calm down, Ren; you've just had a bad dream. Your fine. Your mother is fine. Go back to sleep."

But he couldn't listen to his own words. Instead he reached out with the Force, concentrating as hard as he could, to sense his mother's life energy. Eventually he saw it, the same as always, a vivid blue glow in the dark. She was alive. She was fine.

But Ren wasn't fine. The dream had felt so real, so terrifying that he couldn't shake it off of himself. He could smell the sour reek of fear coming out of his pores, and it bothered him.

"Shower," he said outloud to himself.

He stepped out of the refresher about half an hour later, meticulously scrubbed. The warm water had soothed his aching muscles but had done little to quell his uneasy heart.

He knew it was late, and she was most likely asleep, but he had to go and see Phasma. He couldn't spend another minute alone in this room.

He left his rooms and began to head towards hers, then stopped. For reasons that he couldn't explain to himself, then or after, he turned and headed in the opposite direction, not stopping until he reached Hux's quarters.

He took a deep breath, hesitated, then knocked on the door. It took a few minutes but eventually Hux answered it, a robe tied around his waist and an annoyed look on his face.

The anger fell away immediately, though, when he saw who it was.

"Ren? Is something wrong?"

Ren felt embarrassed, wondering what had possessed him to come here. His words all came out in a jumbled rush.

"I'm sorry; I just, I had a bad dream and I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to be alone, and--"

Hux shook his head, taking Ren by the arm and pulling him into the room.

"Sit down," he said, pointing to the couch, and Ren went to sit. Hux went into his kitchen and came back in a few minutes with a cup of tea. 

"Drink this," he said, handing the cup to Ren. He watched as he swallowed it down slowly, then set the cup on the table.

"Do you want to talk about it?", Hux asked him gently.

Ren shook his head no. "I don't want to relive it," he said , sighing. "I just--I just didn't want to be alone."

Hux leaned close to him, making Ren's heart thump unevenly, and used his fingers to smooth a stray lock of hair back from Ren's cheek. He closed his eyes as he did this, breathing in the luscious scent that Ren still carried with him from his shower. 

"You smell nice. Really nice."

"Thank you.", Ren said, then yawned, stretching. "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, waking you up in the middle of the night like a child just because I had a bad dream. I'll go, and let you--"

"You don't need to go anywhere," Hux interrupted him quietly. He got up and grabbed an extra blanket from the hall closet, and spread it out over Ren. "How about you just stay here, until you feel better, alright?"

He got up and walked across the room, turning on the holodisc projector. 

"I borrowed this holofilm from Phasma. It's a documentary about the beginning of the Galactic Empire. You'll like it, it mentions Vader quite a bit. We'll watch it until you feel tired."

"Are you sure?"

Hux rolled his eyes, sitting down next to Ren. "Yes, I'm sure. Now don't be stingy with that blanket; it's cold in here."

Ren laughed and flipped a piece of the blanket onto Hux. The two sat side by side, feet propped up on the table in front of them, watching and talking over the film on the screen.

After a while, the conversation began to lag, and soon Hux was aware of a light pressure against his side. He turned his head, and saw that Ren had fallen asleep, leaning against him with his head lolling comfortably on Hux's shoulder. 

When Hux was positive that Ren was truly out of it, he timidly reached over with his other hand, and softly ran his fingers through Ren's hair, humming a little as he did so. Even asleep, Ren seemed to respond directly to the touch, a contented sound coming from low in his throat as he unconsciously snuggled in closer to the redhead.

Hux tried to stay awake, to enjoy the sensation of Ren being so close to him, and to watch the pleasant way his chest rose and fell as he sunk further into sleep.

He TRIED to stay awake, but a huge yawn nearly dislocated his jaw.

I'll just close my eyes and rest a second. Just for a second, he thought to himself, as his eyelids fluttered down.

He was completely out within a few minutes, leaning into Ren's soft warmth the way Ren was leaning into him.

They stayed like that the rest of the night.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I took my love, I took it down  
> Climbed a mountain and I turned around  
> And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills  
> 'Til the landslide brought it down  
> Oh, mirror in the sky  
> What is love?"*
> 
> \--from "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac
> 
>  
> 
> *I had to post this here, for no reason other than the day I started writing this story, I was having a bad day and listening to this song on repeat.

"Lord Ren. General. The group that's set to arrive tomorrow is of the utmost importance. I want them greeted with a double line of stormtroopers, and escorted into the building by the both of you. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Supreme Leader," they said in unison.

Supreme Leader was expecting a visit from one of his most important allies, Lady Flora of the planet Korriban. She had been instrumental in helping Snoke rise to power, and continued to help him in terms of gaining control of more systems and individual planets. She had just procured for him the desert planet of Tattoine, having wrested away control of the monetary and trading system from the infamous Huttese family. She was traveling to see him, now, along with her advisory counsel, to have him go over and sign the final papers in regards to the acquisition.

Ren knew, from reading Snoke's feelings, that he did not care for the woman in question. However he respected her brilliance of mind and her allegiance to him and the First Order, and would therefore go out of his way to make her feel important upon her arrival.

Ren and Hux stood at the end of the stormtrooper-lined ramp to greet her, now, and Ren was a bit taken aback by her appearance.

The woman was much older than he expected, a bit on the heavier side, and not in the least visually appealing. She had a loud, carrying voice, and she was wearing ill-fitting, overly bright clothing that did little to flatter (or hide) her dubious shape.

"Lady Flora; we're honored by your presence here. I'm General Armitage Hux, and this is Lord Kylo Ren. We're most pleased to meet you."

"Absolutely charmed, my dears," she drawled, looking from Hux to Ren, then back to Hux again. "My, my, Supreme Leader Snoke certainly surrounds himself with a wealth of beauty, doesn't he?"

There was something about her accent that Ren didn't like. Her words came out over-stretched, pretentious, and somewhat lazily. 'Charmed' came out like 'chummed', 'beauty' like 'bee-you-teah'. 

Now she held out her hand in the old-world custom that Ren hated, and wondered, for a moment, if there was any possible way he could escape kissing her hand. 

There wasn't.

He went after Hux, pecking her hand as quickly and painlessly as he could, although not quite quickly enough to avoid the taste of sweat and salt that had accumulated on her fingers.

When her back was turned, he quickly wiped his lips with the corner of his robe, grimacing.

"Lady Flora, if you and your counsel will follow me, I'll escort you to Supreme Leader's chambers. He's expecting you."

"Wonderful, darling. Lead on," she said, taking hold of his arm. Ren walked along the opposite side of Hux, biting the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing out loud at Hux's obvious discomfort.

It would be a long few days, indeed.

-.-.-.-

"You know, originally, Snoke didn't just want a simple dinner for this woman, but a banquet, of sorts. Not just for her but for a number of his newly acquired allies."

"So I heard. A waste of time and credits, seems like; but then again who am I to criticize?"

It was the last night of Lady Flora's visit, and Snoke had a formal dinner planned in her honor. To Ren, the time couldn't pass quickly enough. He and Hux had been tasked these last few days with giving her a tour of the base and its grounds. They had even been forced to take her to watch some of the blaster training drills, which had been near disastrous. The men had needed silence in order to shoot the targets properly, and Lady Flora had chosen these moments to ask questions as loudly as possible, resulting in a number of near-accidents.

"Well,", said Ren with a sigh of relief, "I'm glad his counsel talked him out of it, and convinced him that a simple dinner for each group would be seen as more intimate and important than one giant party. Which I'm glad of; I can barely get through dinners, let alone the dancing that a banquet would require."

"I take it you can't dance, then?", Hux asked him.

"Unfortunately, dancing has never been a part of my training. My--my mother and father would dance together, if we went out to eat someplace with a band. That was so long ago, though, I can barely remember it."

Hux stood up and came towards him. He grabbed Ren's hand and held it in his own, the other he wrapped hesitantly around Ren's waist.

"What are you doing?", Ren asked, startled, trying to twist from Hux's grasp.

"I'm going to show you how to dance. Now, watch my feet, and step the same way I do, alright?"

Ren nodded, and allowed Hux to move him gently around his quarters. He watched the redhead's feet as instructed, and after awhile he could mimic the moves almost perfectly.

"When I was at academy, we had dances like this quite often. The officials of the school invited the girls from the Women's academy down the road. Chaperoned, of course. I never saw the point of things like this, but the Masters all said that it was important to have a well-rounded education. Whatever that means."

The music had stopped, but Hux was still holding onto him, his hand, his waist.

Ren looked into Hux's eyes, and an involuntary, almost painful shudder wound through his body. Hux released his hand and took his arm from his waist, and backed away from him.

"Well, thank you, Hux, for the lesson. I think I'm going to take my leave now, if you don't mind. I have to finish getting ready."

Hux nodded, watching as Ren walked to the door, fighting the urge to call him back.

"I'll see you at dinner," he called after him.

-.-.-.-

The dinner was everything Ren expected it be: a tedious affair full of political talk, unpleasantly heavy food, and boredom.

He was seated to the right of Snoke, and Hux was on his other side. To the left of Snoke sat Lady Flora, and Ren wished with all his strength that he could have been seated at the other end of the room.

Her eating habits were atrocious, and her manners were terrible. She hardly had the decorum that Ren would have expected from someone in her position.

Worse than watching her chew with her mouth open, worse than watching her spill bits of food and drink steadily down the front of her dress, was the conversation she kept trying to hold--with Hux.

She was all but leaning across the Supreme Leader as she fairly shouted bits of conversation or questions to the General, who, to his credit, was being far more polite than Ren would have managed, in the same situation.

She had a strong physical attraction to Hux. Ren felt it, even from where he sat, and he knew that if he would sense it, Snoke could, too. Ren knew that after dinner, Lady Flora would remain at the base for another hour while her men signed the final negotiations with Snoke. He knew that Snoke was trying to think of a way to keep her out of that meeting, and that an idea was forming in his mind over her obvious like for the General.

Sure enough, when the last plate had been collected, and the meal was over, Snoke turned towards the General and said, with a smile,

"General Hux. Perhaps you can entertain Lady Flora, while we finish up our paperwork?"

To Lady Flora he said, "In the courtyard we have a rare breed of lunar flowers. Absolutely brilliant colors, but they only appear in full bloom during the evening. I'm sure General Hux would be delighted to show them to you."

"Of course," Hux answered immediately, and quickly stood from his chair. He went to Lady Flora and pulled out her chair for her, offering her his arm. "My Lady?"

She took it, cooing and leaning into the General as he walked her through the doors and into the courtyard.

Ren watched them go, feeling an unpleasant mix of anxiety, anger, and jealousy. He was watching so intently that he hadn't realized Snoke was speaking to him, and he turned around hastily.

"Master?"

"I said, come along, Lord Ren."

Ren reluctantly followed Snoke and Lady Flora's counsel to Snoke's chambers, watching as they talked over and signed numerous bits of paper and contracts.

Ren knew why Snoke had had him come with. It wasn't so much that he cared whether Ren knew of the details of this business arrangement; rather, he wanted Ren along for protection.

There wasn't any ill intent coming from the men, and it was a good thing there wasn't. Ren wouldn't have picked up on it in time anyway. His body was there--

\--but his mind was out in the courtyard.

When they finished, and hands had been shaken all around, Snoke bid Ren to go and find Hux and Lady Flora, to infirm them that the desks had been finalized and the counsel was ready to leave.

Ren left and made a beeline straight for the courtyard, his curiosity eating him alive.

They weren't there.

He searched down the hallways and outside in the training area, his pace quickening with each second that they didn't appear.

Finally he spotted Hux's red hair and Lady Flora's loudly printed dress towards the entrance of the base, standing at the top of the marble steps.

What Ren saw made him take a shocked step backwards, his heart exploding into a fireball in his chest.

Kissing.

Lady Flora had Hux's face between her plump hands, and was kissing him with her unevenly painted pink lips.

Ren hid himself behind a pillar, trying to calm himself and put on a neutral expression before going out to--what, confront them?

Even as he thought that, he knew it was stupid, because Hux wasn't HIS. Ren had made no claim whatsoever upon him, and therefore he was free to do whatever he wanted to whomever he pleased.

When he finally got himself under some semblance of control, he detached himself from the pillar, and found Lady Flora's group walking towards the twosome from the opposite direction.

He reached Hux at the same time the counsel did, and stood stiffly by his side as they bid the group goodbye, calling for a stormtrooper guard to see them safely to their ship.

Lady Flora offered Ren her hand, and he perfunctorily kissed it, watching as Hux then did the same. Finally she and her entourage descended the steps and glided away to her ship. General Hux stood unusually quiet beside him, both watching the group's movement and glancing at Ren from the corner of his eye.

Once they were out of sight, Ren turned and walked back into the building, without a look or a word for the General.

Hux watched him go, his heart flopping uneasily in his chest. 

-.-.-.-

"Ren."

"What do you want?", he asked in a flat, emotionless tone.

Hux had gone to find Ren, after giving him a few hours to cool down from whatever had made him so upset. Yet that time seemed not to have mellowed him out at all. He still looked angry, almost violently so, and his calm words didn't fool Hux for a second.

"I don't 'want' anything, Ren. Well, no, I do want to talk to you."

Ren looked up at him through the hair. It was hanging messily over one eye again. Hux had to fight himself, to resist the urge to reach out and smooth it back.

Instead, he came and sat beside him, and he reached out slowly and took Ren's hand into his own.

"You're upset. I know you're upset but I'm not sure why. You know I can't read minds, Ren. If something is bothering you, you have to TELL me."

After another sullen silence, Ren began to speak, his tone laced with a surprising amount of hurt--and jealousy.

"I saw you kiss that--that woman, Hux. I SAW it. And it bothered me."

Hux shook his head softly, he hadn't known that Ren had seen that, and he felt bad. Still, at the same time, he was horribly frustrated. There's only one reason he'd be upset about that, Hux thought to himself. And you know what that reason is. So does he. 

"How much longer are we going to keep doing this?", he asked, softly, mainly to himself.

To Ren he said,

"WHY does that bother you? Whether you saw me kiss that woman, or anyone else, why does it even MATTER to you?"

"Because--because--", Ren began, and stopped. He had no idea how to bring out the words, or even what the proper words should be, in this situation.

But this time, instead of backing down from himself, he decided to plunge ahead with the answer coming directly from his heart, and damn the consequences.

"It bothered me because, Hux, I have feelings for you. Strong ones. And I know I should have told you this a long time ago, and I'm sorry, but I'm saying it now. I care for you, and I can't stand to see anyone else kiss you. Okay?"

Hux bit his lower lip, his face alive with countless emotions running across it. 

Ren had said it.

Ren had finally said it.

He opened his own mouth, not sure of what, if anything, would come out.

What he heard himself say, was

"I have feelings for you, too, Kylo."

And then Hux was talking to him again, in a decidedly different tone of voice. He sounded worried, unsure.

Regretful.

"And perhaps it'd help things if you knew; SHE kissed ME. I had no idea it was going to happen, and it's not something I wanted."

Now he leaned back a little, a small smile on his face. "I highly doubt ANYONE would want their first kiss to be with an obnoxious, middle-aged, soul-sucking harpy of a woman."

Ren couldn't help laughing out loud at that, feeling both annoyed and relieved. And then the meaning of Hux's words struck home for him.

"Wait--you mean, you'd never been kissed before? Really?"

Hux turned pink, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No," he mumbled, embarrassed. "Pathetic, I know, especially being 34 years old."

Ren started to laugh, loudly, and Hux looked at him in annoyance.

"There's that sensitivity I was looking for," he said sarcastically, scooting further away from Ren.

"No, no," Ren said in between laughs, wiping tears from his eyes. "It's just, its funny. Because I just had MY first kiss last year."

Hux looked at him in wonder.

"Really? That's unbelievable. Wait a second--last year? With who?"

"Phasma," Ren replied. "She was doing me a favor. It was awkward, though; it felt like what I'd imagine it'd feel like to kiss my sister, if I had one."

Hux was quiet for a while, before turning to Ren and saying, "So we're both perfectly matched on the kissing front. Interesting."

Ren was looking at him in that way he had, all dark eyes and pale skin, and Hux had to look away, feeling as though he was out of breath, for some reason.

"So which one of us will achieve kiss number two, first, do you think?", Hux asked him quietly, feeling his heartbeat pick up again.

Ren leaned closer, and took Hux's face between his hands. He closed his eyes and very, very softly pressed their lips together.

Unlike the time he kissed Phasma, when he felt only shock; this time, he felt desire, and passion.

Passion pushed down and hidden so deep that he had had no prior knowledge of its existence, and was scared at the raw hunger that was emanating from it.

He felt it from his eyebrows to his ankles, an explosion taking over his entire body in a way that nothing else had since he had first discovered his Force sensitivity.

The softness didn't last, as each gave themselves over to the voracious animalistic instincts that had been repressed for far too long. His hands on Hux's face were rough and aggressive, his lips suffocating him.

Although Hux wasn't protesting this in the least.

When it seemed as though Hux were going to pull away, Ren's entire body screamed out in protest. He gripped Hux's face tighter with his fingers, holding him there, and muttered out a desperate "Don't--please--"

But Hux did manage to break out of Ren's grasp, putting a few inches of space between him and the panting knight.

"Just--need to--catch my breath! Give me a second, and be patient. I've never done this before, so--"

Ren heard him, and forced himself to comply, even though his entire body was tingling with the urge, no, the NEED, to lean over and kiss Hux again. He contented himself with grabbing the General's hands and holding them in each of his own, sitting close, refusing to allow any space between them.

"Your lips are so soft," he said, reaching out to touch them with his fingertips. "Do you have any idea, how long I've wanted to do that?"

Hux blushed, and suddenly pounced on Ren's lips again. This time he pushed Ren backwards into the couch and climbed on top of him, holding him down easily with his slender legs. Easily, because Ren wasn't making any moves to escape him.

This time when they pulled apart, he said, with a grin, "Don't laugh but, uh. I've practiced this. On--on my pillows."

Ren tried to hold it in, but he burst out laughing anyway.

Hux scowled and moved off of Ren. "It's not like you've had a world of experience yourself, you jackass."

"So where do we go from here?", Ren asked him, looking down at his hands folded in his lap.

"I have no idea. All I know for sure is, Kylo Ren, I like /this/," he said, kissing the tip of his nose, "And /this/," kissing his chin, "And THIS", kissing him on the lips. "And I don't want it to end anytime soon."

Ren grinned, and said, "Well, as long as we're staking claims, here--", and proceeded to try and kiss every freckle on the ginger's face. 

When he was finished, he said, playfully, "But I still hate you, you know. A little bit."

"That's fine, because I absolutely loathe you, too."

"Funny how close 'loathe' is to 'love', isn't it?", Ren asked him, leaning in and kissing slowly down Hux's neck, raising shivers and goosebumps all along the General's arms.

"You don't think it's just a little too soon for 'Love', Kylo?"

Ren grinned, shaking his head. "No. For Maker's sake, we've been 'together' for ten years!"

"I suppose I can't argue that," Hux replied, pulling the taller man into a tight hug. He wondered, in the back of his mind, how he was going to let go. Now that he had him, now that he was finally in his arms, he didn't feel like he could ever let Ren go.

Not that Ren would let him.

"I can't wait to tell Phasma. She's been pushing for this, you know."

Hux nodded.

"I know. But I think she can wait a little while."

"Why?"

"Because we still have to work on kisses 4, 5, 6, 100, etcetera."

"100?", Ren asked playfully, raising an eyebrow. "That sounds like a lot of work, General."

"Then we'd better get started," Hux replied, shoving him hard against the couch once more, and attacking him with his lips.

-.-.-.-

Phasma opened her door, surprised to see both Ren and Hux there at the same time. Usually, they came to see her separately.

"Come in, you guys," she said, stepping aside to make room for them. "You're just in time; I was trying to rearrange the furniture in the living room, but the chairs and couch are too heavy for me to lift."

"I just remembered; I have some papers I was supposed to bring to Snoke, so--"

He acted as if he was going to leave, and Hux caught him by the sleeve, yanking him back.

"Nice try," he said, and the two spent the next hour moving around furniture to Phasma's changing dictations. 

When they were finished, Ren collapsed on the couch, and Hux sat down next to him. Phasma went into the kitchen, to bring them some cold water.

When she came back, she was beyond surprised to silence to find the two of them leaning into each other, kissing.

KISSING?

Ren looked up as she entered, and noticed her stunned look. He quickly used the Force to levitate the tray with the water pitcher and the glasses out of her hands and onto the table, because he sensed she was seconds away from dropping it in her shock.

"How--uh, what--?"

Ren sat up, smiling at her uneasily. 

"--surprise?", he said sheepishly. 

When she made no reply, continuing to stand there with that awed look, he continued,

"We, um, we've been together now, really together, for almost a week."

She put her hands on her hips, facing them. She tried to sound angry but she could hardly manage it, she felt so elated inside.

"So you two have been together for a WEEK, and this is the first I'm hearing about it? Really? How hurtful!"

Ren quickly stood up and hugged his friend, kissing her cheek. "I'm sorry, Gwen. We wanted it to be a secret for a while, to see if we could really make this work, without strangling each other."

"We had a few close calls, but it looks like we're solidly stuck with each other," Hux piped up from the couch.

Phasma couldn't help but smile at that. "Well, good. I'm glad."

"So you forgive us?"

"Well, there's one thing you can do to make it up to me."

"Which is?", Ren asked curiously, as he returned to his seat beside Hux.

With a wide smile, she said, "When the day comes, let ME plan your wedding."

Both men blushed, and Ren squeezed Hux's hand tighter.

"Don't you mean "if", Gwen?"

"No. I mean WHEN."

"How do you know we'll make it that far?", Hux asked her softly.

"Because I'll kill you if you don't."

All three started to laugh, and the sound of it was music to their ears.

"Fair enough," said Ren. "But in the meantime, though, can you feed us? I've got to keep up my strength, dealing with the both of you."

Phasma rolled her eyes, and headed into the kitchen. 

Ren stood up and, still holding Hux's hand, stole another kiss before pulling him along to the other room.

-.-.-.-  
-.-.-.-

The war had ended over a year ago, but things were still unsettled in Leia's mind.

After countless years of organizing, strategizing, planning, her group of soldiers had been able to find the base of the dreaded First Order. They had launched a full scale attack, employing all the resources that they could gather up, and, after a bloody and heartbreaking battle, had destroyed the army and the weapon, obliterating the evil organization from existence.

Before they had done this, however, they had managed to infiltrate the base and liberate the group of children that were being held there, virtual prisoners being brain-washed into a life of servitude. Leia had spent numerous hours finding new homes for the children, and she was more proud of this accomplishment than she had been of anything else in her entire life.

And that was saying something.

Official Intelligence had told her that, while Snoke DID perish in the fight, a small group of his men and women had managed to escape, and take off before the worst of the battle commenced.

But the former General was unsure of whether or not that group included her son.

She had been trying to reach out and feel his life energy for the past year, only to be met with static silence. She wasn't sure whether this was because her son was truly dead, or because he had fled farther away than even the Force could reach out across to him.

She hoped it was the latter.

Since the war had ended, she had worked tirelessly to put her people in positions where they could be a part of the new government that was slowly but surely rising in place of The First Order. But when asked whether she herself was still interested in continuing her political career, she couldn't say anything but No.

"I've been involved with the government, Wars and politics since I was a teenager," she would tell anyone who asked. "And it cost me everything. Everything I ever had, every person I ever loved. I've given my life to protecting and fighting for the freedom of others. I'll always be an ally, but now I think it's time I left the fighting to others."

And no one could disagree with that statement.

War had cost her, throughout the course of her life, her entire home planet, her mother, her father, her birth parents, countless pilots, soldiers, droids, equipment, facilities, personnel, maintenance, friends, her husband, and now, perhaps, her son.

She still had her brother, who was slowly but surely working with the young girl, Rey, to establish a new Jedi order. But Luke was so busy and away so often that she barely saw him, even though their love for each other was the one thing that never faded out, no matter the time or distance.

Now she lived alone with her two faithful droids, R2D2 and C-3PO, and her door was always open to those that needed shelter, or a hot meal, or advice.

Yet in spite of all who regularly visited her, her growing sense of loneliness was hard to ignore. More than anything else, she wished she would hear something about her son. Just to know that he was alive. That he was okay.

That he still loved her.

The beeping whir of R2D2 pulled her out of her thoughts, as the little white-blue droid wheeled in from the door, bringing her the mail.

"Thank you, R2," she murmured, and the droid beeped its reply as it whirred away.

Leia shifted through the letters, sighing at the boring, familiar litany of items that she received every week.

One letter caught her attention. It was at the very bottom of the pile, scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting in heavy pen strokes. The envelope had a considerable heft to it, and there was no return address.

"I wonder what this is," she said aloud curiously, as she used one of her hair pins to carefully slit the top of the envelope.

Two items fell out of the overstuffed container immediately. The first was a letter, consisting of a large handful of papers folded over and creased multiple times. 

The second was a small rectangle, of heavy material. It was gilded and laced prettily along the sides, the curled writing of the finest copper-gold.

Leia caught the words centered in the middle, and her hands suddenly began to shake.

/////

From the desk of Gwendolyn Phasma, Event Coordinator:

"You are Cordially Invited to the Wedding Celebration of:

Benjamin Organa-Solo  
And  
Armitage Hux

On this date, of -- "

/////

 

Leia's breath caught in her throat, and she had to quickly sit down against the dizzy spell that closed over her head like a tide.

Ben--was still alive?

Ben--was getting married?

. . . Ben was, once more, BEN?

"C-3PO?", she called, and listened to the sound of clanking metal come into the room towards her. "Can you bring me a glass of water, please?"

"Of course, Mistress Solo," the droid replied, returning quickly with a glass. Leia thanked him and swallowed it down shakily, trying to still her thumping heart.

Slowly, slowly, taking all the time allowed, she unfolded the thick letter and began to read, unable to keep the tears from sliding down her face as the words danced in front of her eyes.

"Dear Mom--"


End file.
